Of Its Dusky Mercury Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I flex my calf muscle like a scar;
Like a thing trying to be beautiful in the courtyard,
Like a firework that wont really work
Going off;
And now the administrators aren’t really amused-
There is Orion,
And Italian is really a beautiful romance language,
But I just really want to be perceived making love:
I want to live in a double-wide that won’t
Be taken away from me:
I want to soften the Ganymede’s of this familiar graveyard:
There they are all mothball tongued above the city-
Boulevard, making love to themselves and to their
Families that are still living;
And it is truly still a jubilee in their cars; and I have stared
Down upon them from atop the mountain habitats of
Breathy genius; and for a moment haven’t I loved her morally,
While the three bears ate her porridge,
And she came; but now don’t I miss my dogs, while the
Airplanes are leaping like whores and angels;
And she didn’t care enough to love me to draw anymore love
From my body than a mosquito, than the casual angel who
Loves, and awfully loves her tomato daiquiris from the porticos
Of the awfully colloquialisms of
That wonderfully fairytaled university, like a homogenized
Dolphin leaping yet for its never mindful fanfare in the
Heavily platinum hemispheres of its dusky mercury.