When The Meteors Sing To The Moon Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I never think of dragons anymore in
The unpalatable rooms underneath the paper trees
In the midst of a hurricane-
Why, I’ll just lay out here, baptizing in the raiment
Of tadpoles-
Soon I’ll be their dessert, and the long
Chords of unicorns will embrace the shore in a
Beautiful effect,
As we ourselves try to escape to the river-
And any hopes of your family are lost to our love-
And maybe tomorrow will be the time
Beginning the great romance that surrounds us
And keeps us from the specters moaning in the forest-
As I hold your hand,
And wait to distill the pornography of the rainforest
Into your lions for the famished rabbits
And the lions:
Why cant we become our own amusements- our
Own carnival,
Even though I am neither famous nor talented enough,
As I tend to be for awhile
Greatly in love with you without the panoply of
Wonderful words to diadem your nuptials,
Or to call you to me in the nights when
The meteors sing to the moon.