Outside Our Shaded Windows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Broken here: all the rope tricks come down- flaccid
Snakes from the pop corned ceiling,
The thieves stolen away beyond the cooling combines of
The ceiling fans:
They have surpassed the roofs, and now are floating life
Masterless kites:
They swing like loose feathers underneath the sickle moon,
Possessing the wives of
Acrobats who have gone off to other shows-
The cars beneath them with their blue families: the roads the
Steady courses pestered by rain and surrounded by
Soft yards whose driveways contribute into them:
And this is the way that out country was made,
And bound up as offering: it is a Christmas then, every time
She takes her brown body away from hers,
And comes over the railroad tracks like something possessed:
Like a chime set loose, and something
Escaped them- crenulated to my door, she pesters:
Bright uranium she fingernails- she defeats the Elysium Spheres:
She has her own presents on her body,
And she promises it all to me as she enters through my threshold;
And all of the world disappears into a little pool
Where like two jubilant otters kissing on each other,
Lying in the speckled shadows underneath the torpid ceiling fans-
Like lackadaisical windmills who pretend to be
Saturnine nemesis- and knights who are inept at drawing daytime
Wages blessing us outside our shaded windows-
And we making love.