By Her Own Amphitheatres Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh fantasy while I haven't been sleeping—
Another mirage of a muse I haven't know
Starts out her own way in the
Sky—
Happenstance of a bottle rocket over
The university
Doesn't have to be cheaply beautiful
Anymore,
As she disappears from my life with
The sendoff of one hand—
Even sophomores have taught me how
To fold her better:
There she is, creased and folded
Beside the left behind armor of the katydids
Up in the combinations of cypress,
The sky of burning sugar cane creating
A florid tapestry behind her—
And I guess I cannot describe any better
For the little while I have seen her—
She will be gone tomorrow,
The commuters will go along without her—
Her husband will love her blindly
Never even trying to believe in the
Metamorphosis that she escapes from us in—
Amused by her own amphitheaters,
Leaving the fuses to their graveyards.