Every Green Morning Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Look at me now
To where I open my chest
These marionettes play for you
Make a stage as my ribs open like opal curtains.
Here, my heart is the tiniest sun—
It pulses with vibrant expectancy,
Like a ruby that is alive.
There is a Persian army of sweat rolling
From my brow,
Wild horses whose hooves make tumultuous
Language like water sculpts earth and bone.
My eyes are caged sparrows,
The irises their eyes growing
As they hope to feed on things
Those are still awakening from the dewy grass,
The bed on where you sleep and dream
Of tiny children sleeping inside flowers
Your fingers brush across, those too memories
The beautiful things which still toy like colorful
Ribbons running like Yuletide virgins
Along your peripheral vision.
These things inside me dance for you
As they kill me,
And I open myself up for you mortally
Waiting for the every green morning
For your eyes to awake
Blue upon me.