In The Sunlight Of A Room Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I heard the noise of casual horses underneath
The pines,
And then the moon was unsecured and drifting-
I was frightened because my dictionary was
As slender as an anxious poetry volume,
But I wanted to impress you, and I didn’t want to
Die until I had impressed your lips with the sponge
Of blindly reaching life,
Even though I have nothing else to sell, and you
Are already diademed and truncated and beautiful in
A crèche of stolen automobiles,
And your eyes are never around anymore at the séances
Of high school drinking fountains-
I am creased like a delicate thinker, grayed on a stone
Down in the valley of an empty parking lot-
And all the planes are leaping as if in a ballet, as if
Choreographed by an effeminate flight instructor-
I don’t want to leave off even though the bus will never
Be returning to me, and all the tamed lions have died
Who used to sing to me on afternoons of sun showers
And Saturdays in their permastone habitats circumnavigated
By the uncouth but jolly tourisms; and I have choice cuts of
Flesh and dollar bills to temp you with, and influence you
Down from your tall gardens:
I can feed you and a child in the effervescing light
Of televisions and trailer parks too. Come down,
Come down and let me wonder close for awhile, prowling
Your hypnotic smells,
Suddenly reintroduced to extinct but roomy
Foliage. Let me imagine
Animals in your bosom’s Siamese
Nest- and let me wonder how many bones you
Have in your hand;
If I guess correcting what will you let me win,
Or band you with; and I just have
To say before the nightmares of fried chicken
And unicorns are coming home that being near you seems to
Palpitate my soul like wet clay-
Like wet clay that dances for you in the sunlight of a room.