The Fire Rings Of Metamorphosis Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Across from me—a great rooster
Showing its comb to the alley cat:
Like an apiary,
A purser in the heat of an underworld goddess:
And her dungeons this sky,
A labyrinth of carports and washing machines—
The ants fiddling over spilled marbles,
And the arrowheads like claws
Bitten into the blue dunes of the backyards:
Just images,
Now that the jasmines have shut up their bouquets:
And the rainbows have slipped into the
Wetted boudoirs across
The canals
Where the stewardesses leap, going through
The fire rings of metamorphosis
That all of the numbed passengers so
Eagerly pay them for.