The First Honeymoon Of The Earth Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Aboard the pretty lies of elbows- looking at the last
Light of the room-
Wondering where the moths are, while listening
To the airplanes:
I am underneath their common flight path to the
Sea- in a historical hotel,
With my little dog between my legs. I imagine
That the carpet is vermilion
And rich
And tries to make love with the ocean, and the beauty of
It that resonates when it gets into the bay
And lays waiting in its kind of bed underneath the crosses
And the all night hotels
Just as the conquistadors sleep forever-
And the working girls cannot afford to get off
Their legs-
Unbeknownst to them and all of their business, the terrapin
Are kissing their roses underneath the penumbras
Of so many broken down chassis:
Kissing lavishly, and reptilian- like the first honeymoon
Of the earth, and I am left wondering about what it
Is that they have to say.