If I force you
to re-enact my dreams
it is so that you will learn
why you displease me.

This morning's dream unfolds
in an ancient sunless forest.
Let us re-enact it
on Tinakori Hill.

The ground is thickly carpeted
with brilliant brown dead needles
a few red-spotted mushrooms
and massive shady rocks.

I come strolling down the hill
beneath the pines
(I'll play my own part
just for once)
on my way to meet with your successor.
She suddenly appears
from half-behind a rock
anxious, naked, grabs my arm
and begs me, for my safety's sake
to walk no further down.

You are right: there are many ways
to carry out this scene.
But last night's way was perfect.

I insist on that:
perfection. So try again.
The important thing, for you,
is not to be yourself.
Do it with more feeling,
subtle humour.
Arrange your body more like hers.
Shed your clothes
before I have to ask.
Smile more convincingly
when the needlewoman calls.

Perform it well, in short,
and perhaps I'll dream of you tonight.
Then, tomorrow, you can be yourself.

Dennis List