Vitriols Of Another Canal Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Tumbling back some more I
Ran so around to another god-
And I am Chanticleer
With holes in my ears
Up for salvation along the
Vitriols of another canal
As satan caresses you,
Spitting and caressing like a
Rattle snake:
And now like in the hollows of your
Being; in the knees of your bones,
Looking up your skirts
For even just a drink of voodoo-
Waiting again for the familiarity of satin
To give even a preemptory
Wink