The Beautiful Chains Of Mountains Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Souls piled into the dressing rooms of bodies,
Try us on blindly and then blow our soup,
Like I try these lines out for girls ringing up the stairs
In beautiful houses underneath aquatic chandeliers;
I try out new sources of bate- I try to sleep with demigods,
And I seed gardens into the green carpet while the alligators
Come up from their bedrooms of sunken nests in the canals
That man dug for them:
The lions snore in their concrete carport: And my best
Friends put off for tomorrow what they could make today.
Maybe the most beautiful woman to ever be held by the world is
Inside an airplane right now like a crèche,
Maybe she is happy to be above the heads of her potential husbands,
Because they have always been so giddy over her, but now
She can get some rest,
As her pilot follows the prettiest swans and they head together
Following no particular migratory pattern, but are
Attracted by the beautiful chains of mountains rising
Like glimmering pitchforks in the west.