Bewitching Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The sea and all its planes has not as many colors as your eyes;
Wines of uncertain ages and uncounted times-
Vineyards collected and stamped by cherubic
Paramours- they have put cool storms and tennis
Courts into your soul,
Windowed high-pitch songs which draws the sailors and
Purple tongued dogs
To the rocky shoals of your proof;
I just want to sleep beneath them,
Breathing the fumes of your pistils arisen;
What are you doing now, but kissing your French
Soldiers down their musket lines;
When did you come to this country so long before the trappers
Came after you; Or you leading them,
Words bent around the spores floating freely never quite
Written down; but my spry ancestors following your languid
Tremulousness: You have two breasts, one for the child,
Swinging, censer to your fire-brand, the other for my mind;
The spindles of these planets, like young lovers on a swing:
You are bitter sweet and I wonder how many men you have
Gone necking with at drive-in movies; and I wonder too, when
I will have my time: I will not give you up; I am quite lazy otherwise,
But I have heard your song; I have graduated from the same state
University as you, so we are brothers of a kind: A brother I love
Neither ubiquitously or plutonic, but I love you unrequited;
I am a petty soldier for you, and if times get tough I want you to
Feed me to your child- it s*cks titty that you haven’t yet
Seen me looking in,
But that is all there is, my message of strange friendships harrowed
Back to life from the fangs of the dragon I have slain;
Because I have written so many things to you, hypnotized,
And put them into bottles and tossed them into the sea,
And slept beneath the windows of your hearth’s fire,
All of these the same colors as your bewitching eyes.