Hi Gill,
A daring, make no excuses for writing it, poem!
I like the start, and I like the end!
Not so sure about the title, tho...
And the only stanza where I'm wondering is this one:
>You will chart my body to me,
>discover to me all its secrets.
>You will warm the darkness
>that I live in now.
The phrase "discover to me" is very strange - I want to say different words! 
And can I dare suggesting that the poem may work equally well without the 
whole stanza?
I'm not saying it doesn't say things worth saying - but does the poem still 
make sense without including them? I sense it does. But, because this is the 
part of the poem where the other responds, you might think what it's saying 
it important! So, because the poem changes quite a lot without the stanza, 
(becomes more focused on the narator) I guess the question is: are you happy 
omitting it?
If you want to keep it, then perhaps the verb "chart" might need 
considering. Water-lilies, dragonflies, a wheel, a chart... then back to 
dragonflies. It's a long journey of different images for a short poem - and 
chart is a very richly laden word (no matter how it's used!). I guess it 
sounds longer than "map" but it's sound is so different to water-lily, 
wheel, dragonfly... But its sound fits with "secrets" and links with "warm" 
and, moreso, "darkness" so it's the whole stanza, and what it's doing, that 
I'm noticing...
Bob


>From: Gill McEvoy <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: new post: Blind Dreams
>Date: Sun, 5 Mar 2006 14:02:20 -0000
>
>Hello everyone, plaese may I ask for some some feedback on this?
>
>Blind Dreams.
>
>Your body will be silk, I know,
>your breasts like water-lilies,
>golden centred, cupped in white
>and glistening.
>
>I will hold you; I will enter you.
>We will make a wheel of love
>like dragonflies,
>blue and bright in June.
>
>You will chart my body to me,
>discover to me all its secrets.
>You will warm the darkness
>that I live in now.
>
>The sheets are chill, the bed forlorn.
>You will not come, I know,
>but stillI I practise remembering:
>waterlilies, dragonflies.
>
>
>Gill McEvoy.