I dream you back, a butterfly —
flit in, dance past belly, thigh,
touch cheek, settle on sheet.
I offer texting thumb, you float down,
vibrate there, do not flee.
Maybe you’ve changed, will stay,
vacuum, massage me, clean the sink.
You sleep. I grab phone, snap photos,
store your rainbowed slumber —
an Instagram treat, red, lilac,
gold, green. You wake, unfold wings,
transmute to drone, rise,
hover briefly, high-pitched whine.
I wake too, you zip off east.