With My Reassuring Sacrifices Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now I have a new tomb generally right here
Next to the railroad cars next to the elephants being loaded
And underneath the mountains I once thought
To climb to pick the vineyards of the lightning,
Themselves beneath the heavens:
As my muse lays in a cerulean bed not too far away from here,
Not too far away with her children, or with her man-
And I become her living cenotaph, glowing around
The parks and the graveyards, something unspoken about
But as toothy as a fox:
And if she could see the hieroglyphics of my skeleton right
Now on this spot wouldn’t she understand like a snowflake
Melting in her brown palm across the ways from
All of those rivers she had to cross just to get here
To find me- insouciant and disbanded, and standing over
Me like a windmill without any breath
In the palm of her brown hand- her womb opening like
A rose garden underneath the crosses and the echoes
Of the waves of some Spanish fort that represented
The vacancies of another pit stop that I supposed
At one time or another her family owned:
And I want to take her Christian name, and to voyage
With her across the many hallucinations until we find our
Honeymoon- and out this very spot coalesce- tattooed
In the dressed of our souls, while her children turn around
Beneath us, lucid, ovoid stars in their game- and I inhaling her
Heavens, with my reassuring sacrifices telling her what it
Is all about.