Her Lover's Shore Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Outside—the werewolves
Walked blindly
Up to the roses—
Not a one of them could see
What it was
The virgin was holding,
But the emptied promises
In her bouquets of
Amputations—
Old muses who'd lost their
Heads to other men—
The stewardesses who'd
Looked away at just
The right moment—
As the white ships embarked upon epiphany—
The silver letters looed
The other way—
And I got my reprieve for
Another day—
In a lifetime lead between the ocean
And her lover's shore.