What They Are Doing Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Scars of Colorado- fabulously indistinguishable mothers
On their second child,
Lactating ice-cream for tourists, while all of this flat lining
Traffic dreams,
And the rabbits hide in the brush- hearts as fabulous as
Runaway rubies,
Pounding, pounding: making sounds into the grass,
Drumming for the mounts of ants and other things with so
Many legs that they move without even knowing what
They are doing.