Inside A Geode Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Or the day is gone for dreaming of its labyrinth
Again—spelled out in the recluses of its
Fabled
Estuaries and drinking fountains—
And it looks so beautiful turning tail and
Burning away:
Over the sandy monuments as over the overpasses—
Or don't you know—
That this is my song—open throated,
Giving fast balls over the trailer parks and the
Swingsets—
Dirty things—believing that the world can believe
Without sound:
Echoes here,
Beside the tangling vines that never had to find
Themselves anywhere else with child—
My cousin pregnant on an abandoned couch and
All of the heroes gone off to fight dragons that do not
Exist—
She is lactating up in the rafters of spacecraft:
And this is supposed to be beautiful—beautiful- but how
Will you ever know up inside a geode that
Will never crack…..