Metropolis Of Henchmen Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Envious news marches green
Down the western cliffs:
This is where the prince was blown
When the wizard found him
Up in the attic
Molesting his abducted mistress:
And the sky goes ever up,
The floating chalice of
Thirsty brides,
If the young boy falls
He cannot die:
For here there are eagles who
Can speak,
And bright faeries who clean
Bedrooms for a living:
Marvelous third world countries
Buried in Jungles,
Just her alabaster hip exposed,
And butter flying-lips
Who need French kisses to survive:
You can break them open
With your tongue
And eat them,
They might cry your name
As the cars drive by:
The spindling herds of snuffing beasts
In evangelically straight rivers
Of white and red, the shifting
Suburbs of Midwestern towns,
The skyscrapers of missing brides:
Lilting his voice
To accommodate the sunny weather,
The prince starts down
Towards a metropolis of henchmen,
The buffalos kitty-cornered next
To the forgotten riverbed,
Where her alabaster hip lies exposed
In the fretful wind.