Page That Is Just Now Turning Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Starting a fire with my dog in the
Darkness against an overpass of sky,
With turtles as a series of stones
Finding their way to a sea that no more ex-lovers
Ever go,
Because their cars’ engines are failing to get
Out of the garage,
And the days around them are hanging like a breathless
Carnival,
And the words we sent them are past dating, and
Lactate sourly,
So the fox just lays there, now that the engine block
Has busted,
And an apiaries of bees have move in, as if into
A dry-rotted room of a house I once might have
Bought into-
And the light just fades and crenellates so more,
Like tear drops of an entire ocean watermarking a page
That is just now turning.