Like A Pledge To Their Senses Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Looking up at the green wall:
The feature of her fairy void: that she should have
Two men attending to her,
But only one stricken enough to bare along her children:
Along the glass rows,
And the store shelves, where the blown things grew
Like chickadees;
The lances that could be seen and felt forever advancing,
Pilling heatedly over their shoulders,
Giving off warming medicine like smelling salts;
But having no certain words about their nature:
What a conundrum, to be of so many sorts, but all too soon
To be evaporating back into their apartments,
With the only memory of her palm like a pledge to
Their senses:
They hung on her then, and bounced off the walls,
And their light turned unholy and cursed the day.