Against His Brown Skin Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Physical imaginations of a poet—
I dream of picking flowers now that I am without you—
I dream of slinking away to the
Avenues of Venice,
And disappearing with the inevitability of these sentences—
The vines bringing about the strangling contaminations of
These crypts,
As I wait for you—eyes and senses filled with rum—
Having trouble breathing—
As lost as the Indians—as wayward as the tourists from
Their homes—
And the purple unicorns—
Like someone with emptied pockets outside of
Disney World—
Satellites falling to earth as she lies in bed with him,
Bring her brown body easily up against his brown skin.