Nothing Less Than Marylyn Monroe Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Beginning to the reservoirs: after the dogs
Have returned home,
But the paper airplane we sent out has somehow
Made it to the other side of the canal
And seeing with her vanished eyes
Many of the other things we have never seen before:
The bottle rockets over the path ten months we
Sent out lying around her like
Nothing more than the pitchforks of cenotaphs—
The reindeers trampling us to
Get to the comets that sing in the remedies of
Moonlight—as she lies bare naked for
The serpent with too many tongues,
Even though she has told us that she once
Loved the terrapin who came wandering to her
Door while we were playing cops and robbers
And she was dreaming about
A housewife transmogrifying into the migrations of a
Butterfly
That happened to be nothing less than Marylyn Monroe.