In The First Place Poem by Robert Rorabeck

What’s up my girl,
You who are like the dragon I’ve tamed
And put to sleep in crags
Liked crèches of deeply wooded artichokes,
And I don’t ask you to call me,
Or even give me the slightest wind to blow
My heroic sails:
All the sea monsters are tamed,
And I am not bragging:
The sea is in fact grass, sod well planted by
My fists and swords,
And all that cool stuff, and I hear the rumors
Of criers and bards that you are
Fully breasted and warm in your brilliant
Halls,
And you have gotten the wall paper you have
Wanted,
And the chandeliers. Men patrol your borders
On fire-engines and clipper ships,
And it is like you have gone on fast ahead into
Another century,
Inventing the forge of ire and the spelling
Machines,
Now that I have cloven all the fears that used
To keep dreams from denting your pillow,
And the sky above your tender curls
Is always a brilliant cerulean bonfire
Signaling that everything is well
And that you are with child, and forgotten what a
Paladin I once might have been
When I first came meaty fisted into your dilapidated
Bedroom
And smote that unseemly roe curling, curling like
So many children who you should have never put
Your hand out to feed from the darkness
In the first place.