The Presence Of The Petrified Gods Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Down from the mountain
Rain drops from
The fingertips of
Little boys-
Frogs sigh remembering
Their bedtime's
Metamorphosis-
And there is reason for
The king to get up
Beneath the clouds-
Rainbows are fornicating
With unicorns-
Arrowheads have
snagged into hearts-
Housewives are
Drunk and
Nude in a sea of
A thousand fabrics-
And I say your name
In the presence of
The petrified gods.
In an afternoon of
Movie theatres-
Where the ghosts enjoy
The red
Baseball diamonds-
And the reptiles sleep in the
Coolness of the rocks
Not having to get up again
Until the next sunshine-
Eyes closed- reminescing
Over all of
The magic they have enjoyed.