Apiary Of My Heavens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I cannot befriend you, as if I were some
Token to a wolf,
Even though we live around each others houses,
And the world is filled with
Such familiar
Stuff:
The rains have stopped that we both felt:
Sometimes the same raindrops might have fallen
On either of your houses,
While your mother Rosa’s rabbits have long since
Disappeared,
As you are surrounded by your beautiful sisters
And your beautiful children
The way a stewardess feels surrounded by
Such passengers approaching the apex of
Her flight:
Even though she is sober, she must feel up to
Her bosoms in libations,
The heavens laughing and multiply like starfish
Over your honey-skin, Alma:
For there you are dancing, a goddess in the zoetrope
Of the orchards outside of my window,
An apiary of my heavens on the other side of my world.