Skies Of The Like Of Naked Prom Queens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Passing by the window a sudden thing,
Thoughts made forever out in the sudden rain—
A paramour of lilacs destroyed
By dragonflies—
Themselves matted down unto their thighs:
Where they lie like jewelry beside the sudden
Highway—
Sky explodes on the Fourth of July—
As if the beauty was looking my way, underneath
The tent of a fictitious daydream—
Ants curling up from the cul-de-sacs where I guess
They have their dreams—
The virgin in the vision of each of their ruby
Abdomens—
A fruit plucked from the tree, the first evil
Of her second cousins—
And in trailer parks a long way off from space:
They nod their head,
They watch the weekend’s afternoon’s race—
And then they close their eyes—
Special vision given to them like
Pies given to a heaven of flies—
And sleeping wolves beckon, howling from
The valleys no one has ever seen—
With cliffs of nude opal
Beneath skies of the like of naked prom queens.