I had a dream.

I am dead and I dance.

The whole house is packed with angels. Filled to the top.

One angel colours the mouth with its large sad wing.

Another angel tries on my dresses.

I am dead and I dance and the whole house

is packed with angels sighing and pressing crimson kisses against the indignant mirrors.

The old cuckoo clock on the wall gave a little cough into its wooden fist three times already.

But I dance

I dance on