Biting The Hand Of A Beautifully Careless Master Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Dogs can do as only dogs can do,
Just as man does as only he knows-
He prays to the mother starship, or he picks
Apples down south in neat and tidy rows;
He makes love, panting, tongue lolling on
Her salt-water belly-
Keen to the pungent swelter, decorated
By the persistently winged blueness,
All twisted up in a sweet-fire pose;
And god knows that raising a family takes
A lot of money, but I’ve had enough of this
Bullsh! t- Seeing fire-engine red everywhere
I look,
When I’m supposed to be colorblind-
This is why, so scarred in the forest of my night,
I almost killed myself when I told you I loved
You and there was no answer,
Just the persistent crickets in the darkness,
Which is as good as nothing; I almost starved myself,
Became another ghost inside my truck with
A dead battery- The same one I’ve had since high school,
The same one I once picked you up from your royal
House, with its rain-soaked cathedrals;
but you don’t remember; Now all of
This goes away, painfully leaping like an
Illegitimate fairytale right out of the stain-glass of
Our irrefutable belief: I’ve gotten a new lease on life,
Buried those precious bones of you where I can’t
Remember, I’ve bitten the hand of such a beautifully
Careless master,
Like tearing a wing off an awful butterfly,
auburn eyed and drunken lipped,
She went swaying with her fraternity of pirates,
Leaving in her titillating wedding gown, gently whistling
But me unfed, though now better realized,
My tail is wagging, for I am the brand new four-
Legged man, now leaping through
These neat and tidy rows,
Fetching only for his own knowledge as it ripens,
Weighing down the spry boughs until it becomes
Very easily enjoyed.