The Sunbeam Of Your Careless Gazing Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Jumbling jail rooms,
Brides in a cage- kaleidoscopes of
Sea-green caesuras
Washing their clothes:
I want to baptize beneath the pillars of
Your strong knees,
Oh muse: like opal pillars,
And hummingbirds are zeppelins don’t
You suppose,
And news snippets feature length movies,
And this is the holy scripture riding
Through your neighborhood
Pretending to sell ice-cream, pretending
To give a darn about little boys and
Little girls, when he just wants to find
You out, to smell you half naked reclining
In the natural habitats of your backyard,
Attending to your school books,
Breasts cupped in seashells or whatever
You prefer,
Your father’s bought you a swimming pool the entire sea,
This tongue and its senses Jason and his crew,
Your dalliances the golden fleeces of my
Melting pornographies,
The Mexicans attending to your yard’s country,
Nothing to you, and on and on,
With more allusions as the lights dim in this
Movie theatre,
And the first starlit of morning walks out,
Just as you come out of your bedroom all early,
And sit down at breakfast in your suburban vestibules;
And my audiences, nothing to you, I suppose:
But you eat your cornflakes and seem all happy,
And my world crenellates around the sunbeam of your
Careless gazing.