The Lilies And The Rattlesnakes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How do you look here—colluding in your telekinesis
While your grandmother is sleeping—
Dreaming in a bed which pretends to be spread across
All of Africa:
And this marks her like the kiss of a soft tattoo:
As she streaks in the trailers of her husband—that professor
Turned to marble by the penny-ante basilisk as
The lakes milk the moon with
Their fangs stuck in the boudoirs of her reflection:
They pull her down to them in a reverse gravity:
And the stolen thieves float closely above the graveyards—
Straining the necks of the lilies and the rattlesnakes.