The Official Stamps Of Her Loveliest World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Twisted up in the cold studios of jellyfish,
Tied into knots for Alma not even able to read full length books,
Just buying cartoons for Heidi,
And picturing her and her mother in Pieta on the swings
In a living-joy sort of world whose colors just get
Brighter and brighter
Where luxurious museums loom with trumpets and the grass gets
Tipsy and bows,
And everything gets its turn of pressing its mouths to Alma’s
Flesh,
And me begging especially that she should bare the official stamps
Of her loveliest world.