Yet Sweet Harems Poem by Robert Rorabeck

While all of the fruits of its body pours
We have been drinking the stock of our friends, while the rainbows
Curse into the flight paths of mariposas the very bitterest of
Ends;
And Sharon your grandfather clock is already becoming gentrified
And we can burn into your bark, and softly glowing become
Realized with the other white-haired sparrows of your disease:
Sharon, I am a coffin and I am touching myself:
I used to think that I was marrying you, Sharon; but just look
At these crocodiles and these amphibians- they go back; and don’t
They go back and what have they been doing, while the stars
Have been luscious and haven’t they been picked and just bundled
Together for the architectures of your harems; and I don’t really want
To start out anymore: I don’t want to do this again- and where
Was I running away to anyways, while the sky was all shut out
And the stage resuscitated into the brightness of the stars of your harem;
But shouldn’t I just shut that out as well: Or, I can love you forever,
And invite you in into the venal plentitudes that are happy to please
The first greenness of clouds of my latest and yet always indulgent
Of homeless and yet sweet harems.