Into The Soft Flesh Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Dragon of infinite colors—
Of seas shells and the tattoos of little girls—
Challenging you in high art and witches:
Venal forest in your eyes filled with the tears
Of the crashes of airplanes:
What country do you represent kidnapped
Into the war we have fallen into—
Broken pavements who cannot remember
The tantrums of their disillusioned soul—
And so you now send things into me—
Busy quills like soldiers dying into the soft
Flesh of sinking valleys:
And I become drunken for you underneath
Churches—and become fulfilled,
Lost beneath you with all of those things which
No longer must evolve.