the seven colours of sleep

in my dreams, you are a silent
housefly who comes to me
at night and sits
on my ceiling. before i
wake we shall talk in
pictures and indulge in afternoon
tea on the edge of vast Fauvist
landscapes; you will leave your
quiet watchpoint to sit in my
palm and blow me bubblekisses.
my hair will be the colour of
deep-sea coral. on the lilac and
saffron clifftops where we sit,
there is no desperate race towards
Morning.
i am always
too hot to move, and there are
always ninety-six tears in your
eyes.