Maidens Of A Perilous Castle Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I seem to rely on airplanes too much
Like daydreams I fly over your shoulderblades
Whose aqualine bodies
Become perfect
Beauty marks tocuhing
Down on the
Tarmacs of your nudity-
As you get out of the shower and
Comb your hair-
And your thoughts are other things
You cannot pinpoint yourself with-
Or if they fall into the bromeliads,
They become dye cast toys
That lay perfectly still
Like knights who have gone to sleep
Without the caresses of witches-
They dream of crossing moats
To see ferris wheels the maidens of
A perilous castle have stolen away.