This Is Too Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’m placing a bet on a house where the mountains
Live:
I’m almost certain there’s a girl there who’s a housewife
I could have sworn would never give:
I could have sworn she would never become halfway
Impregnated on waterslides,
Or cursing her blue eyes up through the open joys,
Experiencing the pit bull refraction on the underside of
Aeroplanes:
That this is what she does, and how she belongs:
And this is how she comes to me working her day through
The tricks of songs:
I am sure that the tourists enjoy her, and the snowflakes roll
Un cut from the scissors of the most endearing entanglement
Where the hikers’ corpses sleep forever in the bad dreams
Of weeping mothers,
Because this is the way she has become, and this too is
Where she belongs.