The Wishing Wells Preternatural Heavens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Underneath all of the popcorn knuckles of
All of the Christmas trees,
All of the knights fell- too busied from
Kissing the eerie serpents
In the bedchambers of all of their own
Motels,
Underneath all of the lights that had
Forgotten, in their advertisings,
To think of me:
As the sea set out over the very shells
Again,
Remembering only their own aunts
In the euphoria’s
Of their very own amusement- they became
Another world again,
Entirely, dressing their wings for their
Very own casualties-
And the world turn, throwing its
Spitballs- and the clause heaved uproariously,
As the lions cleaned their coats,
And then fawned bashfully- until very soon
The hummingbirds settled down over
The wishing wells of the preternatural
Heavens and seemed to dance into the very ballrooms
Where I already supposed they could never learn.