Moon's Shivers On Upset Water Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The moon’s shivers on upset
Water as boats speed by
Remind me of you getting
Out of the shower
In your aquarium
Of my zoo—

East on Summit Blvd.
Down past the public library
Under the interstate’s
Dry and weedy overpass
Near my childhood
Is where I keep you—

I watch you through clear
Glass at water level,
As you layout like an
Otter sunning on the concrete embankment
Your perfection the only
Thing which hides you—

I transgress work whenever I
Can to swim with you,
Though you keep your
Distance and hardly speak
With me except sometimes
You say hello, then quickly
Swim away—

I feed you chocolate
And chicken sandwiches
Three meals a day
With the little pickle
Slices you relish and eat
Out of my fingers, though
I still haven’t tamed you—

When after the day’s lights
Dim, I turn on the black lights
Lining your pool, and
We make love
When I can catch you—

The midnight’s audience looks
Through the windows and
Cries chemical tears on our
Silhouettes,
Because I cannot let you go—

So our contained lovemaking continues
Though you would leave at anytime
If I would let you swim away
With the boats through the intercostals

You who remind of the moon’s shivers
On upset water.