Like A Wish Of Saltlick Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Night burns for a time its pornography:
A troop of snails endeavor to drink the sea above which
You are riding on winged seahorses that have just
Leapt from the waves who are themselves the teal lips parting
For your glistening ship of worship:
Then you are the thing to be worshipped: shirtless, even still
They let you into the store of thoughtful clouds who have been
Building up like evaporated carpenters a grotto
For your racetrack:
Your areolas have just as many years as you’ve had boyfriends,
And I count them,
For they make the ripples of two wishes I once had
Both for the same woman who for the moment seems to be
Leaping like a wish of saltlick of a promise straight over me.