Oh So Many Times Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Worried by the hurrying news- the patenting of
Lost fights glaring in the cinders just before the yawning of
The mailboxes,
And my little dog left back in the woods,
Stroked by virgins with serpentine bodies that do the tricks,
As the day sets off like a match, by the heedless wonder
Of newly realizing stampede:
That this is but the outlook of another séances, going through
The motions as mothers pack lunches, slender straps slipping
From their shoulders heedlessly beside the canals.
Showing the freckles only their husbands and their coworkers
Should see to the alligators and the fanfare of
Likeminded tramps: there they are starting downwards from
The pool,
With eyes of ruby, or the lapiz lazuli that weeps from
The empty genies of too many bottles,
After all of the fairs have gone, like butterflies are gone-
Packed up to die poisonously over oh so many rivers- into the forests
Of lovers she will never admit to,
Where I wait for her to fall across me, to shroud me in the old skins
Of an unspoken dressing room where I saw her mirror less,
And kissed her oh so many times.