Capers, craters, a whole juice box of love.
Sun's dialling her dreams, in order to wake her early...the blue sky wants to take her out to the meadow, give her a roll in the weeds and sprinkle her coffee with chocolate powder.
There's power in her sleep, however. She hangs heavily from a dreams tail, unable to find the fissure in which to crawl awake through.
This dream's a sweet dream. Why would she want to leave it?
The man with the lion eyes is engraving his initials on her pocket watch with a single magpie feather. She watches, rolls a thumb of tobacco inside silver paper, flicking lips, moon drunk.
Cradling a creamer, full to brim with xylophone lullabies, he seeks her approval.
She takes the watch, tracing the fine indentations, hardly able to believe he is here with her now, insisting she remember him.
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