The Melted World Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Goddess, call me over to dinner in your
High basins, and I will drink your liquor, for it runs off
You as if you were always in the Spring,
And now you are laughing with your daughter while
I am lost in the woods, but don’t think of me:
I have been lost so many times for going to high up,
And touching the backyards of god where her clothes
Were drying:
And I have had fun, even if I am dying: while this is your
Youth, and she is looking up at you through the melted
World
That is colored by her eyes by which she has formed you.