For Its Second Of Infinity Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I bought my own clothes,
Would you cherish me in the day:
Would I come out just as sunny as the workers
Who trouble themselves dallying on your vines;
But I think I would rather be sunning naked with my dogs,
Because I can smell you better this way;
And this is a sunnier sort of play, crawling to you on
My fours:
Not knowing how to open doors to you, I leap through windows:
I span towards you like bottle rockets who whistle for
Your throat,
And won’t you let me pierce you like an arrow with your
Name on it,
Perfumed in the grotto with the tadpoles of my religion by
Which I worship you,
And even these over-kind words dissolve just as your life
Is going backlit into the crepuscule of its hidden cove,
So there isn’t anymore than a perfect memory
That for a second flickered in a shallow pool for your eyes
To see and for you to come back to perfectly
When you are trying to conjure up a friendship that burned
For its second of infinity.