Illusions You Can Find Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Whatever illusions you can find in a carnival
With nursery rhymes tumbling into her at the end of the hill,
In a sweating navel of extinction's joyous echoes
The bones of sounds:
Where your mother and father met and got lost in the woods
Amidst all of the prettiest elk and chicken wire hung up in
The lees and around their antlers:
Strange mote of a dance with the airplanes picking berries
And coming so close to the ground as to kiss starfish
Where the angelic arboretum pulls back, where there
Is a sea and dryads disappear into mermaids
Evenly beautiful through the lactates of the heavens:
Where cars park and the first loves weep
Over orange lipped extension chords,
And tourists getting their pictures taken with the Pieta:
I know you are here—In a fantasy that weeps for itself
And the swordfish who have lost their lovers
And come to wreck their silver bodies beneath a lightless house.