I got out of bed to see if you left the oven on
And tripped over a pair of blue clogs in the doorway,
I lay there starting to remember things;
The ocean in August, the moist of your armpits, a seagull we named Bob.
I knew there was no way for me to rise up gracefully
And the hero was snoring.
For a moment I panicked,
I'll drown, I thought. I'll drown.
But the green crayon next to me was unflappable
And reminded me that I had swimmer's legs,
Any fool can trip on the carpet, she reminded me,
But it takes a goddess to rise up and walk again.
The oven wasn't on. I walked back to bed,
the expanse of oceans at my feet.