Like A Promise Burning Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Amber perfumes of a forest with bees,
Up in the joints where the butterflies go to
Die going blind in the moping
Draperies of angels, and languishing there
For young boys with weapons who still
Hold delusions for her in their eyes:
Coming out of the air-conditioning of a museum,
They weep and masturbate on the marble,
But don't know how to learn Latin:
They remove their clothes and slip into boats
Of shadows for her, while she flies above them
Like a promise burning.