The Wasp-dream

The kind wasp woke me –
it knew that I had dreamt
so its wings began to hit the glass
’til, bruised of life, it went

to a mouldy corner
of the blackout blind
and walked along the window sill
until it left my mind.

It must have had a séance
amongst the piling tread
as I later found it curling there
dried out and dead