Breathing In The Echoes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The pageantry of her eyes calling
Like a crisp dollar bill
While the sun and the ceiling fans are snoring—
There she is in a clip of stars
Beholding the fanfare of her sisters—
Girls in the silky forests and the crenulated waves—
I think I know who they are—I've seen them
From the fort even though they always
Seem so far away—
Taking up all of the space that they please,
But hidden—lapsing in the shadows—
Brilliancy of copper bodies reanimated—
Their bodies like fans—
Breathing in the echoes of gills and leaves.