Always Kind To Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Passing myself down into the emptiness,
Like the snake that has found the concrete sheath,
And so tired of tricks descends,
While the hummingbirds demote themselves form flowers
To clovers,
And not the lucky ones, and the waves descending to the shore,
Fashion their kisses by the demonstrations
In the viaducts of her vanishing gown; and now she has him
On her mind instead of me,
And her children come lurking, wanting for milk or
Trouble,
While more and more of the gold she wears is purchased by me:
I bought her a silver rosary today and told
Her I was Catholic,
And promised her that I had written her this before she’d
Ever met me;
And Alma this is always for you, so you should take it:
Take it, and be
Always kind to me.