Shhh… shhh…
Speak in whispers
Walk on tip-toe
Do not stir the air
Efi’s building her dreamhouse

With flesh-red petals
Peeled from hope
Skin flowers drift
Through half-made halls
Her sacred breath
Suspended hangs
Like weary webs
Or widows’ veils

She’s weaving words of love
Into blood-soaked satin hearts
For her dreamhouse

Where the roof is floating ivy
Hovering just out of reach
And the walls are trembling roses
Stolen from some foreign field
While a million crimson flakes
Form her shifting ocean bed
As she lies alone in limbo
Resting her liquid eyes

Shhh… shhh…
Tread softly there
Don’t make a sound
Don’t stir the air
Efi’s building her dreamhouse