The Flowers Of Oranges Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I had words for the virgins or their
Mothers,
They would take on the form of a long
Vacation:
They would become the reasons for romances
In cheep hotels alongside the busy roads
Right before the breakfast
Shacks started opening like pill bugs for
Experiments:
And if I had her for all time,
I would lay with her in the swell caesuras of
Any roadside easements:
And we would lay for a while of days,
Letting the foxes play atop of us:
Remembering the cannons of the old forts
Of conquistadors even though now there is
Nothing left to defend:
Remembering ourselves, as well, outside,
Smelling the flowers of oranges,
Our souls fluttering as if attuned to a banner-
As the king grinded his organ box
That the sunlight filtered in.