Like A Goat In The Zoo Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If there must be princes singing like
Cicadas getting naked,
Dancing
Like rivers, then let death come too in
Her horny shoes:
So high up and against my back repeating on
The swings,
Like a poet, like a carnival these things I
Seem to me,
Underneath the moon,
Underneath the lost airplanes looking away
Way up into the sky of your carnal bed
Where the footprints of untamed animals leave
Tracks all around your place,
And you are bathing like a heavy cloud that never
Keeps its shape,
And you are so rich from the suicides of high
Society,
That you might never come down,
Ringed in copper, bellied in ink: You float there
Like a séance, like a dream,
And down on the earth and grottos I can taste you
Like blood on my lip,
Or, reaching out, I can almost run up against
You like my first word, like a goat in the zoo.