The Evaporations Of The Gardens Of Her Shadows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Pulling in the vision of
Another dousing crepescule—
The crickets sound against the foothills of
The mailboxes
As my son coos in the next bedroom—
Life in its effervescing metamorphosis,
Through loves and deaths—
Kittens mewing up against the lips of
Rattlesnakes—
My shadow going down to chase the carcasses
Of bottle rockets—
Making the song that no one hears
A dozen times or more—
A housewife at the door of earth,
Living in cliff dwellings:
When she sweeps out her door,
Stumbles over the moon,
Trips over the blue cat who is also infatuated
With the evaporations of the gardens of her shadows.