Nests Of Naturalistic Adulteries Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If the rivers of spikenard are blowing over her
Shoulders,
What is the tiger singing over the trailer parks while
The biggest of forest fires blows out all of
Her candles,
And she falls down sighing his name,
Like a mermaid placed upon a swing or a metronome
Of a kindergartener or a famous musician-
And the words spread across her like reasonable
Bonfires or other out of control similes,
Until Christmas was over, and all of the familiar gods
Were down,
Or up in the claustrophobic attics above the houses-
While the truants farted and skipped school
And lit off roman candles through the palmettos
And masturbated like winos
To girls they could barely see in their visions:
Girls with bare shoulders speckled underneath the
Australian pines- girls with hair lips and freckles,
Cousins who you might have played doctors with
Who no somehow have become
Stewardesses for conquistadors who are always flying
Towards the unconquerable hemispheres,
The names for her like serpents biting their lips,
And her birthday candles all lighted up and burning in
Their beards, like songbirds stealing jewels to
Build nests of naturalistic adulteries.