The naked herring
on the slipway
is salted by the relentless
Atlantic tide.
Au diable l'anglais
spoken on these foreign shores
devoid of style, of culture,
the bare walls of Big Apple.
J'ai trouvé
a premature dwelling
a gallery for my talent
in the Louvre.
The naked herring
decoupé
sliced, salted and gutted,
brushed on the silky thighs
of my muse
slips down my gullet.