Maggie Dietz: "Dream of Me"

Dream of Me     If you are the dreamer, I am what you dream. —Rainer Maria Rilke I am just a dreamer, but you are just a dream. —Neil Young You'll notice my face is longer, horse-like, my legs slender as a horse's, showing through the gown worn threadbare by my loping. The rein drags behind, a long rope of hair, it tapers around trees and you follow, embarking: the test. On the banks, my breath makes a fine blue mist. You are lost, so listen for the sound of my lungs, like doves rustling. The mossy roots make rungs and you climb down into the music where couples are dancing a waltz on my back.  Each rib makes a note when they step that redoubles in the belly of the river beneath us, the crib of civilization, with legged fishes, tiny ancient seahorses. We are floating toward the dream's destination: see the braid flung down my spine? Follow it up, climb the knobbed ridge, lean over, flip into my ear. The drum will glow and beat. Until you don't know where you are, proceed, until air is scarce, your breathing slow. I'll wake you then, before you go too far. Originally published in The Cortland Review 16 http://www.cortlandreview.com/issue/16/dietz16.html