Jasmine In A Church Poem by Robert Rorabeck

And then they call us, so here we are, open chested like
Banners licking the eager wounds of a flood,
And I don’t know if you have exactly seen them:
But I have seen them: I have seen them almost touching down:
Almost blindly, as if blind men could play a football game:
They play, blinded pilots filled with gold on streets you and
Your neighbors have been selling:
They are already here for early ransom, ad the beanstalk has been
Growing;
If you get up early enough you can even see the horse growing,
Growing, and changing color, and then while any muse that you
Once had, while you once had her makes love to
Any man: to any man while you are thinking over her bones
As soft as roses down the shell rock road,
And just as delightful as dolphins, while wasn’t it as it was
That you’d already mentioned her, playing into her salty and galloping
Fields:
Why there she was, as delightful as any angel:
Why there she was, and everything that you’d ever created
Came happening all at once all around her:
It came happening, as if jasmine in a church underneath all of those
Airplanes far away: the perfumes of monuments of countries that
Never existed, and you could smell her for sure: for sure,
Even if she was not even there.