Mockery Of Kissing Salt Poem by Robert Rorabeck

So much poetry in the battalion
Until we had to go inside
And play cards,
And make a mockery of kissing salt
While it rained
And the beanstalks grew: and I closed
My eyes and imagined
The prettier girls in my classroom,
Like caged birds singing to
The hooded cobras, singing at the lips
Of the mine that would eventually birth
Their wedding rings-
As I slumbered outside for many of the morning
Hours,
But eventually collected myself of this
And went, again, indoors.