Bows pulling across the strings running from
the top of my head to my toes,
fingers laughing as they pluck
surprise music from my unsuspecting form,
bones xylophoned across by
the figures running past and
knocking fingers against the orderly rows;
I'm dreaming again, distracted
wondering about
mouths on skin softly and
whether or not I am allowed to
bat my eyelashes your way

(I wouldn't want to play the wrong note-
everything else seems fairly composed).