To Tell Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now you are elected by what I must know
To become the milkmaid of my dream: I have put you
Here the queen of my everything,
And these words are for you like the breaths ornithologists
Give looking up into the sky:
Or looking up into your eyes, Sharon: You see that they are
The same thing:
The same painlessly blue cases that your child looks up in;
And I want to be like your child, resting in your shade.
I want to be a passenger underneath you, riding all of these
Poems as if in a merry go round of pain;
And if you happen to look for me, know that I can barely go
Outside; and I am not right for you:
I am not right for anyone: I am packed up and dreaming,
And I have traveled back some while so it is the middle of
A school day and you are whispering attentively; but I am
Not even there: I am out in the world: I have stolen a lonely
Man’s bicycle, and the yards are green and perfectly
Superfluous, as the houses are affluent: and I could move us
Right back in there right now, Sharon: without an occupation,
Without a mortgage: You wouldn’t even have to marry me:
You could be my field- All you would have to do is step out
Doors and collect the mail and the daylight; and I would
Do good work for you: I would pronounce your childhood,
And that would be all right, because that is all I have ever done
For you:
And I have a bag of fireworks and two good legs, and miles and
Miles of paths up to you:
And I have already been above your head, but would come back
Down for you, to look into your eyes for miles and miles:
For in their perfect darkness lies all the stories I could ever think
To tell.