The Saltwater Fables Of Her Motivational Clay Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Perfect young couples come in for open houses:
They are lorded over me by what maybe a wicked godmother:
I am not sure:
I am just happily sleeping with the litter of foxes in the aloe
Beside the Lady of Guadalupe,
All blushing and silent like well suckled infant, all famished
From our radical travails:
We have just made it through the deepest sea caves,
And made love to all the mermaids waiting at the intersections of
Opulent and lactating stalagmites;
And we ate all of the sea grapes, and flew all of the sea kites:
Until we passed all of the conquistadors and ended up here,
Right next to the laundry room with the metamorphosed princes
Right beside the carport of the house they are trying to sell;
And even with my eyes closed and my mind dripping the translucent
Transoms of long-footed jellyfish, I have the nerve to think of
Her: miracle mother the next room over or in the sky:
She is floating there like a miracle play; and she is the reason
Why I journeyed here, but I am just one of those foxes
Leaping forever in the saltwater fables of her motivational clay.