The hotel bed we slept in was so wide,
it seemed to me death’s river. At the shore
my lover said, ‘Dear heart, I’m yours no more.’
She walked on water to the further beach
and turned around to face me, out of reach,
while I was stranded on the nearer side —
of Styx, I wondered, or some English stream?
I stood there, raging, impotent in loss;
how did she, without drowning, get across?
I shouted, ‘Have you had enough of men?
Was I not what you had in mind?’ But then,
to my relief and joy, she smiled and spoke:
‘What time is it, my lover?’ And I woke,
to scoff at terror that I’d known in dream.