The Corroding Pornographies Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Working in a womb unseen
The sub-axis of the hub where
The unstudied hand of a poxy
Magician keeps his doves,
I live looking for you in
The imperfect and evaporating
Mirrors of puddles,
I keep looking for you
Undeveloped—
In the womb of your mother—
I want to be your jobless
Father and so soon
You will come
And I will be jobless
With just some
Paper roses
To diaper you—
Can you remember my name
As I stand out in the open where
The cars drive—
As the night warms the bellies
Of potbellied snakes,
And across the street
The dunes caress the feet
Of a sneaky
Panther who in lanky sideways
Lopes across the rusting
Chassis which house
The corroding pornographies.