The Wilder Beasts Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Then they have friends who make love too:
Over the house- over the zoo:
While the winos nuzzle, and the mountains blue: and then the nights
Get real cold
And I think of you: Alma- all warm in your body,
As in your soul, slipping in your dreams down into the unnamed
Reservoirs of Mexico:
While I try to do good work for you, licking off my wounds,
Sitting in the graveyard or my living room:
And the rains have stopped- and the traffic doesn’t make a sound:
A girl stood beside me today underneath the tent
And talked to me where the Christmas trees stood:
But I could only think of the absence in your brown eyes:
Of how everyone was moving away, accounting to themselves,
While the overeager swing sets of my childhood were
Being taken down:
And your body verily swam- like an otter in the lust of the sea:
While its favorite color started to take the shape of a novel,
Or of the effortless kite that your father gave to me-
While the horizon was just beautiful: while conquistadors were
Eating themselves; and either the lions yawned or roared-
And their young multiplied beside the roadway
That the tourists adored- and the wilder beasts kept track, and
Took account of themselves.