Your Nude Knees Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am as mute as the cathedral, and I
Am dreaming
And all of this is the reason that the snow falls
Across the television:
I don’t suppose it is anything entirely beautiful
But then it was just the weather
Across the television in her high heels
And then I guess I knew what it was you
Were talking about through the echoes
Or through the trees while there was still
A reason and it remained echoing- echoing
Across the forgotten chassis-
While the sweet- sweet pornographies sang
Of the open estuaries of your nude
Elbows- or, or they sang as well of your
Open estuaries of your nude- or
Your nude knees.