Like The Spokes Of A Bicycle Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh- I want you, parables of the
Lavender tit- oasis of shimmering gasoline:
I have searched for you through
The numb cataracts of my classrooms
And my neighborhoods,
And I have seen you changing clothes
In the changing room of
Palmettos,
Baring areolas of sand-dollars; and then
This is just what was:
Words biting my lip over the feminine
Beauty of the day- yawning, reawakening-
Lathered with yoke and spikenard
And then turning in the geometry of perfected
Sorority, like the spokes of a bicycle
Leaping the neighborhoods like a candle’s flame.