The Clear Evidence Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Recoiled like a serpent after his spring:
After whispering of the wisdom of her sexes in her ear,
And making her eat that thing,
Causing the burning planes of summer, for her young and less than
Wise gods to evaporate and disappear:
To smack dab her like a porcelain doll into my cerulean plane of
A bed with springs,
And to allow me to make love to her even though she was already
Spoken for:
It gave her the canine tooth of wisdom, and made her sweeter:
She is still my brown sugar
Even though she can not leave her yesterdays of Mexico:
All the education of Alma’s soul across the seesawing aridity
Of the state of Guerrero,
Like a castanet cast candidly between the extended bellies of a gulf
And a sea:
And now she has hernia, and I don’t know if we can ever make love
Again, but I spill for her anyways-
I kiss all of the newborn terrapin trying to escape the burning letters
Of the beach, as if they were soldiers of fetlocked unicorns
Retreating into the over spilling goblet of a vengeful king
Crying in them the promises that kidnapped them
From the forest of their immortal spells,
And put them like marionettes under my fingerprints, leaving after them
The clear evidence of all of my crimes.