Like A Bosomy Obstacle Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Softly embittering bruises on my flesh,
Each as unique as a snowflake,
As a rattlesnake’s kiss- living underneath the diesel
Paths of airplanes,
Permitting to the horticulture of this un heavenly
Place:
With and without daylight and sunlight and moon beams,
As the waves rise and breathe softly in crèches and
Wreathes in which the mermaids cultivate
Like a bosomy obstacle course, but no one believes
Of them anyways- which only
Increases their worth.