Of Their Pornographies Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have fun fore playing with my mother
Because she never sleeps:
She is like a candle on an endless god’s birthday cake:
Then by Wednesday I will have my own house as
Old as my one grandfather who is still living:
I will have my own fortification nearer the sea; and if it is
Good for her, then
It is really good for me, but I miss my dogs,
And I miss the sound her legs made playing a mammalian
Violin against the crèche of my body;
And now I wonder if I will ever wake up, while the buses for school
Come around the neighborhoods of my baseball diamond,
While the rattlesnakes also sleep,
Sweet cousins who also keep cloistered to them the sweet venoms
Of their pornographies.