In The Silent Places Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Underneath of a rose the jaundice pinpricks
Of another metamorphosis of things- your friends
Here in the undefined colors
While tourists move and gesticulate to the sea
Maybe thinking she will make a fine lover, how
The waves row in her bed, how the sky is spent
With smoke signals like
Genies coming uncorked above the séances of
Windmills while the lobsters dance
And little girls draw pictures of a world you watch
From the window of a supermarket painted with
Green sales, and you daydream about riding a rickshaw
Downtown- while the girls underneath their
Roses spin, pricking their eyes until they tear,
But when they spring from that bed they will be like old
Friends on new years, and they will enjoy the revelry of
Their sorority underneath the dragon of Mars
Who will sing to them of bicycles- and other flowers
The grow long toothed in the silent places along the
Long and winding path that only their ancestors remember.