Blindness's Feast Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Bats sleep upside down
Sacked into the moist air in the womb of a cave.

You sleep horizontally, I imagine west to east
In accordance with your street-
Unaware of the gentle lull coming from
The waves of the ocean-

And the creatures trapped there in,
The mythologies they could not pretend to know in school-

Awakened blindly, the sun as a guest upon your shoulder,
You are guided by the awareness available to you-

Sirens increase the volumes of the atmosphere,
Traffic roils as fish-
Progressing in a haze of comingling shelters,
Artistries are crucified into religions
Houses molt or burn down-

A market of insects happens in a flash
That is eaten by a cloud of wings:

As a maggot on a beautiful rose remembers the earth:
A womb furrowed by roots-
A school yard that is in essence a grave carved
From a once unmolested orchard-

As blindness prepares a feast, so dines the wetted
Snouts of such a romance.