Such Glory That You Can Never Believe Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The clairvoyance of well shot and well
Hung words steals away my breath;
And they turn all of the sky and earth green under the
Parasols of comely hurricanes:
It does for me what beautiful people do in movies,
But it is only a representation of what you do for me,
Alma:
Now the earth of my country can grow anything:
Elephants sprout of blowing trumpets over the soft beds
Of new kittens,
And the softest metals of angels spring up from the
Laughing spigots of the sky where
Not a single housewife has yet thought to move:
And you can drive your car all the way up to Ocala reading
Borges while your little sister laughs at you and says
You are in love;
And you can find a new house far removed from the yellow
Beds of yawning lions and the chartreuse dragonflies
Like laces of tears on their vests,
But I will find you: and I will always find you to make love
Or kill myself,
But never to harm you; but to hold your hand, while the
Angels play cards in the sky until they put their hands down
And slip away into the boudoirs whose make-believe doors
Hide such glory that you can never believe.