In The Weddings Of The Sea Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Imperfect repetitions- how I throw my body again
And again, Like the
Sudden but happy fish coming out of the river to steal a
Bolt of sun,
To watch the horse and her children run:
And before that there was high school then, all the children entering
And exiting there:
I don’t care- This is my song running out barefooted out into the
Grasses of the front yard,
No matter how small that front yard has to be:
It must always stop and look breathlessly at the traffic swaying there:
Back and forth, like curtains, like lungs:
And the funny things we’ve had to say, we’ve had said to us:
And this is America,
So take the bus:
And Alma had to get on home again today, her body moving through
The boleros of the jungle and the sea:
Her body that was pressed so close against the cash register,
And so close again to me this wonderful day,
That I could almost see the birth places in her eyes, and the needs of
Her children:
Oh Alma, Alma: you are a mirror, and this is my mirror trying to fit
For you,
As the waves march in the weddings of the sea.