Even If They Cannot Fathom Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I am going to die by your inclination,
At least make it as beautiful as a drive in movie
Or a wheel barrow
Out in the open summers, and their seasons:
And then the weathers who are without
Reason,
Because your name is Alma and you are my muse,
And certainly I will love myself and my possessions and
Travel alone and nameless for you,
And this is but only the beginning of my declination,
Just as the waves hustle over the infinite sea of
Nameless heroes:
And I love you; and I love you, like an echo who can’t
Even love me,
And I’ve got your back, and I love your fathomless
Eyes,
Alma- even if they cannot fathom me.