To Metamorphose Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now they have facts to imbibe their sounds:
And it feels very real, as the sea caresses the forts even while
There are no more tourists around:
And they have gone away from the orchards, to swap out
Apples for Disney World:
And they have been breathing anyways all of their candles
Underneath the roller coasters and across all of the
Canals that I used to bask in underneath the pine trees and beside
All of the blue gills,
Sending all of my kisses and all my cursing to the girls who
I guess once lived there,
Gilled and hiding out and eating pinecones: the gold around
Their wrists fluttering there and holding out
For their families to swim in on their canoes:
And for the princesses to become so white and milky, their blue
Eyes standing out like tears, cursing me for turning away
And finding my muse from Mexico: my soul, my Alma:
Even though on Sunday she never calls,
And I have to go and find all of my movies alone: though I never
Stop thinking about her, or cutting my wishes for her deeper
Into my wrists- my symmetry drinking its liquors and blessing in its
House, and holding its breathe like a carnival of fish for
My love to metamorphose into spouse.