Who I Actually Was

The body blooms: it shoots off and molests itself,
While I tell everything that I own that I have just enough to barter
With her with, but that is not so:
I know no one in this place, in the kingly grotto where her ripples
Sing,
Where her children play mating games, and she takes off down the
Rows like jubilant squid;
The manatees and sting rays surrounding her and looking into her
Vast eyes like transoms above her tumbling surplices,
They can see her in her living room and then into her kitchen,
Almost naked and making things,
As if she were a tomboy in shop class; as if I had found her and
Stolen her away from her husband with absolute certainty and met
With her in the thorny park and swapped tongue
And continued congratulating her into my newly purchased bedroom
If she could only believe in me, and if only I was certain enough
To tell her with some certainly who I actually was.

by Robert Rorabeck

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