Let loose by sun on bevelled glass,
a circus of sequins and baubles
parades into my room:
troupes of clowns with tiny pots of paint
spatter the shadows with rainbows,
back-flip on the walls, daub the cupboard
with lozenges of reds and orange,
splatter the fridge in green and purple silks,
cover the dog in blue and violet spots.
Colours caper like goats on my arms and hands,
spider tightropes spin out silver threads,
strings of performing horses shake
their plumes of gold and green and indigo.
The sun moves on beyond the window,
the masquerade departs.
The cupboard resumes its dark sobriety,
shadows are shadows once again.
Only the fridge continues humming to itself,
remembering something quite remarkable.