Children With Another Man Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Up in the woods where they keep our
Grandmothers:
Where the prop-planes have crashed,
And there are
Not even one or two survives:
Where I have run with my dogs
To try and taste lightning,
Feral tongued:
Up those hills where the Indians
Preached
And down those hills where the beaver’s
Dammed-
And your children are sick, but they
Can be healed- if not tomorrow,
Then the next day- And the wild flowers
Are truly something to behold:
Drive your truck here while the airplanes
Are far away,
And the fires are jumping like electric
Current across her bosom-
And you and I were just growing up-
Seventeen- do you remember that
Time where everything inside the movie
Theatre had to be real-
And we hadn’t made love to other people,
And we still thought about each other
Before you moved to Colorado and had
Children with another man.