What They Were Never Meant To Explore Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have chances to believe
While my dog drinks his fill of water, and my muse
Is in another house,
Around her, her children as if at a fair-
In the theatre of her television, her favorite telenovela;
And her umbilical hernia mending,
So in a week or more we might make love again,
While the airplanes keep on roaring,
Roaring: going straight at it,
Reaching their destinations skipped across the seas-
The mermaids in their grottos, the gods at their
Ease,
And never a single creature here on the earth ever missing
What they were never meant to explore.