So Many Times Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Parcels in the grass and parasols over canoes to save you
From the shadow less sun as we go across the channel and caracole
The island I once waded to on Easter:
And you are not at my house right now, Alma:
You are at your home across the ibex and green island fichus hedge rows:
Across the sleeping airplanes and unicorns:
Where I have made it so far by foot, drunkenly, swinging my laughing song,
To sleep beside your three bedroom house with eight souls in side:
Purer than any house of any white person,
You personify the ghosts of fish who can never drown:
You who are as ageless as the most ancestral of terrapin on my mind:
I will cook and slave for you tomorrow;
And maybe you are with child; and maybe this will be your home,
And in time you can dry your close on the prayer flags of my banners,
And wipe the sweat from your brow, finding the courage to tell me
Just what I have fearlessly told you so many times.