Just Whom It Is Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They have their friends in the stables
Of Christmas- in the sweet nativities of a suburbia
Where it never has to snow,
And the housewives go out shopping, and then
Rejoin home again:
Look at all of the prettiest things they are taking home
With them, and I think of you-
As the power lines sway, as the alligators cross the
Canal:
I think of you as the homeless men think of the moon
Underneath the overpasses:
She has dipped down again, she is kissing them
And bakes them a thanksgiving in a stolen cauldron of
Her shadows- and lingers in their peasant
Heads,
As the three legged witches fly as high as commercial
Airliners- and I am left wondering, beleaguered once
Again, just whom it is I am going to marry.