You came to me last night while I was sleeping. It was like making love to a dream.
The haze of sleep swirled over my brain as sensations muddled together.
Red and green.
Specters of you and me.
Dancing across boundaries of sleep and wake.
Are these hallucinations, Love? Are you weaving my dreams at your pleasure?
I wanted to ask you your name, but wisps have no names.
Anyway if I were to hold it in my mouth, it would take my voice away
I’ll call you my Púca.
Kissed by fire.