Blueprints To The Banshee Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I cleaned myself in the shower
And thought of the sea upset by
The hurricanes cast outward from god,
I followed the blueprints to the
Banshee-
To where the rocks part in the
Unreachable kiss of two things always
Moving away,
In that isolated throat where there
Is autumn,
And she is always there, her
Breasts the twin mounds where Rome
Was founded in the dropping twilight
Where her pups play and nip amidst the
Shoals of the falling ocean around
The tree that is also falling,
Phosphorescent leaves the
Crippled angels of dreams for her,
Shot and clipped they surrender into
The pools,
Waiting around my feet
As I stare into her across the
Gulf of the dying storm that is
Wildly blowing eastward and
Away.