The Earth I Made For You Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How can you never think of all
The busied flowers underneath your sink
Dozened into a scattering of vermilion
Seeds the sun in the sky winked love into:
It peppered them into their youth,
As your mother’s rabbits danced- and you grew
Weary as you I romanced:
And you continued making love to me in
The orchards, as if through the pages of our
Story book- but that was a fable whose moral
Never took- for if it was your child,
It was just the persuasion of a gibbous moon
Lamenting upon your brown oasis-
As you lay in bed with your brown children,
Lactating the sensations of a town of roosters that
Grow for you when the rains come and turn
The earth I made for you into mud.