How Beautiful Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The cat says my mother’s name
Why the alligators realize it is her birthday;
And far away from baseball,
And used cars,
And the beautiful girls with tattoos on the submarine,
The elk are shedding their antlers
As the aspens shed their leaves;
And this is the truth of the meat of the
Blushing mollusk;
Its sad architecture, its cancerous science,
The denouement, the epiphany sewed shut in its
Coffin for viewing,
All dolled up but bloated,
Another cavalry charged of the disembodied men,
Trying to feel her up without their corporeal libido:
This is the stanza that has to end,
The peat of her eyes, the crook of her grin;
And I still love her,
And I am still trying to get it up, like a sick daisy who
Burrows its head out of the skull socket of that
Fresh young grave,
And finally looks up to see the moon eat by wolves,
And all it has to say for itself is
How beautiful.