In A Sweet Chicken House Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The get up to school and work
Traffic soft now, coming into the cone of my senses-
I lie on a bed of recompense; I think cemeteries
And jewelry stores and junk heaps where a mugged dancing
Girl’s peacock costume flutters:
They all have something in common: nude women in an
Apple orchard,
I guess: The Castillo de San Marcos, making love next to her
Next to the sea,
Children who love cartoons and their own reflections where
The mirrors are like soft pools that they can always enjoy:
Their soft bodies like low watt light bulbs, so that
They can grow up and contain themselves
Casually- the queens of ephemerality drizzling above the
Cotton mouths,
Like softly rolling daydreamt thunderclouds within the clutches
Of candelabrum and chandeliers
Made to dolly-up
In a sweet chicken house.