The Aboreal Gymnaseums Of Alma's Forever Brown Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Dying in the midday courts for awhile
We share ourselves as
We look up into the open and sunny mouths
Of feral gods,
Like the luckily living grandchildren of Titans,
Caged up with the ceiling fans over the oceans;
And when the winds blow like kisses
Over the resorts of her brown ears,
I can lay low and pretend to be mortally wounded,
Over an adolescent carpet crawling with blue millipedes,
With the horseflies rattling at the doors,
And the summer storms cutting across the fields
Just like overly eager young boys stripping off all of their
Clothes to finally fall down into the prenatal
Ballrooms of the blessed light that just so happens to fall
Before the arboreal gymnasiums of Alma’s forever brown eyes.