The Afternoon's Thunder Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Yellowness in the hoods of butterflies
As I sleep underneath of the
School busses
And another day turns around exchanging sunlight
For rain across the oilslicks from
The oil pans-
And the otters play in the forensics of canals
And I cannot believe that you cannot see them:
Maybe it is because you are looking at me
As the zoo has fallen down around itself
And the waves culminate in the haywire
Of a trapeze of so many mouths
With the lions yawning in the basins
The echoes of which bring the spoils of
The afternoon’s thunder.