Green Corner Rooms Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Can you imagine the filaments standing still
In the exact place,
Burning with the contemplation of the machine?

My wife rushes to wash the dishes and then
To breast feed the soring mouth of our newborn child

It is the middle of the day and I have been drinking.
The nocturns are in the exact centre if their
Deepest slumbers

Clouds build on the moon, enveloping
Wayward flight paths of airplanes,
Making them disappear.

The middle classes will sit down to
Brown lunches on green fields.
Then they will leave by either way available

Like tourists at Disney World or the possibilities
Of eager lovers miles apart from fulfilling their
Dreams

The alligators smile at the mermaids
Drowning one another,
Their wild possibilities tangled
And making love

Halfway through their muggy siestas
Rented from their green corner rooms