That I Know Why Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I hate you my turtle dove: I don’t know who you
Are,
So I just keep sniffing more beefier flowers, and getting
Drunk into bars:
But I am improving: I am buying a house, yellow
Yellow and eighty-five years old,
And I can live it until I at least get that old, and I fold up
Like the creased poison of the Monarch butterfly
Underneath the Spanish word for rainbow: el arco iris;
And it is the completely crimson arrow that
Ripped straight through my thought consciousness,
Because tonight I made love to a creature who claimed to
Be Melody: but who is Melody but that thing with
The five pointed star red and black in the depths of her
Olive-skinned thigh:
She let me kiss her, and I am afraid that I know why.