Undressing In Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I.

The areola is mine.
I saw it hanging around the sun

And the golden trees which
Signify death,
But not mine....

The little girls swaying
Inside pink hula-hoops-
Where are you?

II.

You are undressing in
The sky garden,
In the bowers of the
Lonely persimmon tree...

Cars drive by on the crowded
Highway,
Men who have missed you,
Like weeds in the garden,

But you do not mind,
Your lips brush the neck of your shirt,
As you take it off

III.

You swim in the unclaimed light,
Faithlessly charmed,

Perhaps for awhile until
You are thoroughly reassured.
Then, stepping out,
You are taken up by
The first John who swims the avenue

And what I see of you now,
Is that thoughtless spot your form
Left in the woods above the earth,
Which I claim.