Patty Hearst Dreams of Persephone Lost On Cadillac Mountain
A highway runs through your dream. Harleys rumble,
Hell's Angel Harleys, and big semis. A little platoon
of matching yellow cars flits through the semis, a flock of goldfinches,
a school of fish. You spot a deer standing at the edge
of the road, know it is about to die, to be thrown
up over the hood of a red car that will careen into an SUV.
They will roll in the ditch at your feet.
Crumpled. You want to wave your arms to head off the deer,
but your arms are timbers from the mast of a ship.
Somewhere, fog. A ship founders on rocks. You know now
you're dreaming because you wouldn't mix metaphors,
awake. You're trapped in the dream, surrounded by Harleys.
They're revving their engines, skulls grinning. Soon
the deer will drown
and you will fall
through green water
in the limbs
of drowned deer
Mary Stebbins, 060329c, 060328b
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats