Here I Will Be Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Soon the night will be crowing gold,
And the oilmen will have their flume,
And I can leave them and saddle up
The leather tack,
And volute out amidst the coalslicked fields
Where the cranes rise their antediluvian stilts,
Their sugar train phallus’ peckering the ground
Where the cactus were once purple
But now drip like the inside of souls
Of men, the sharp nards and urchins they
Grow into out here,
But I will leave them out across the salty
Plate skipping sunlight around the skulls of
Dimmed amphibians, in this godforsaken sea,
And go to a place of sparkling womb with
Veins that can feed me, the indented areola
Of her milk round hills, where the ants are
Red and crawl like pets over my tools,
And there strike her with my work, sharp metal
My saliva peeling the pregnant topaz,
You can leave me here, where I have found
Gainful employment hooded outside the unions of
Man, and baptize naked down in the curling tassels
Of her throat of leaping salmon.