Queenly-Acanthine Estuaries Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Jump along with me wherever my train is bound
It is sunny- It has to be,
Now that you are found and no longer need to sling my
Words around to string goose necked traps for you-
Because you are now my homeless honey:
And it is bright and balmy
Wherever we are running, and the yellow dresses drip
From your piercing,
And the waves are so calm that our newborn children
Run through them and pick up shells from their
Quieted lips:
If you would know this, it would be so beautiful,
And nearly impossible the way you have been running,
And I haven’t been doing anything rightly for so long,
So how can any high basined goddess love me:
And it is only this, that I have been so forlorn for so long;
And I’ve been thinking of your eyes,
And the better ways to spell them- Or dreaming of other
Eyes to which your dresses do not belong,
And maybe I have been wrong, but I am not a bad man:
And maybe that is why you do not love me,
Not that I am not your bad man, or that I am your good man,
Only that I am not beautiful enough to be your help mate,
But I said I love you- I said I love you,
And I want to jump trains with you and name children
Whatever new children we might have painted by the names
Of homeless caesuras;
And if you can only see this, or even hear this the way the
Snow melts from the very summits down to the palmed and
Balmy:
That I love you- and before we are only epitaphs,
Ant-sized calligraphies underneath the surcease of starry tides,
That you might wake up from your cat nap,
Your nipples perking- yes, and yawning, and realize that you do-
You truly do love me,
Only that you have forgotten, as I have forgotten that I
Was beautiful enough for you,
So that in that brilliant memory we might go tramping together,
If you really loved me,
And so we left together across the tresses of sand barred
Seas,
Our eyes yoked together,
The yellow light running over your piercing,
You eyes shining like the goddess come down from
Her higher basins and queenly-acanthine estuaries.