when the indigo screen appears
A glass of milk spills over it into a new Milky Way.
like a fairy’s lymph an oil slick
over your flesh
tender and gentle
like a tame Zoroastrian cow
Light mercurial dew trickled from the branches
over my hair. And the pastures became emerald green
sponges
delicate nets of possibilities
When I burrowed into my dream
the soft tissue throbbed
above a pink mist over the silk cushions
Fine
AuthorVera Čejkovska