The Auburn Weeping Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The metamorphosis of burning tires is quite
As beautiful as the cockroaches who linger in the
Armpits of the museums:
I believe you have seen them there, yourselves,
On a field trip of amen’s:
After the roller rinks have all burned down,
And the herons have reached the sky:
I believe I will see you there again
Underneath the burning sugar cane- and I will
Kiss your soft brown skin,
Lips brushing the tears of an apiary,
Though I cannot say why- but your captains still
Will yearn to bare again your naked limbs
Back across the canvasses of the auburn weeping sky.