The Equality Of Nature’s Opposition Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Doves as innocent symbols:
You wear them as tattoos,
Services whose job differentiate
The bodies of souls,
The kidnapped children which
Speckle the stream like flakes of mica
On your lower back,
The arch at play,
In the hot box of the sweaty glove:
Your eyes linger like divine hooks
Of fishing poles:
What will they say?
What will they say and answer,
When laid down?
The learned scratches on backdoors,
The canine faithfulness of tongues,
The routes you take in and out,
Moan filled colors
Inebriated and hosts to the cockleburs,
The weeds that grow as fast as children,
When the blackness of your eyes
Shrink of recognition of want,
The playground of the upper thigh,
And the fingers instruments
Which start the business
The cotton-gins and assembly lines
Pressing together youthful abdomens
Meant for coming together
The equality of nature’s opposition.