The Indians Who Sleep Inside Of Her Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Northern forest without any flags
Or women
Where women are like flags, but
There are no summits
For either of them to start out
And to arise:
Just a forest of absurd and devil
Worshiping Indians,
And no roads over that wilderness:
And no roads in the sky:
In fact nothing here evaporates:
The climates of the shoals keep their
Armor,
The grottos keep the advertisings of
Their ilk,
No mermaids- no sea horses-
The green atolls are only mirages,
And beyond them, not a single wave:
But the forest
That sleeps alone except for the Indians
Who sleep inside of her
Whose dreams no one ever told.