Singing Verses Of Her Being Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Everything in words now:
Her love in words,
On the verge of the publisher’s bloom:
Her lips and chin words,
Her tongue the punctuation,
The confirmation of the letter’s stamp:
Her eyes the auburn vocabularies
Of her womb,
Glowing dimly like coals
Waiting to be stoked awake-
Her legs the calligraphy,
The art of her form-
If opening they would lead high upwards,
To our children,
The bright vowels of kindergarten,
The angels of apocryphal verse,
Her hands the leading sentences
Conjoining our new paragraphs,
Showing me around the bright canvas
Of beautifully fluidic grammars:
If she saw me in her lines,
And discovered me like an
Ancient language,
I could put entire volumes of
Poetic species in her mouth-
My tongue pressing into hers
The intimate needs of my body’s dictionary,
In swirling caesuras, the commas
Situating the adjectives describing
How I see her,
My love for her forming
The singing verses of her being.