I Am Going To Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I think about calling you,
But what is your name?
Red River? Indian Giver?
Did you star in that movie
With John Wayne?
Inside the ribbed cage
Of your heart’s room,
Do you have an old soul?
Does it still play the drums
Of your life’s pounding need
With the same religiosity
As when you were newly born?
That is not rain rattling
On your window,
For that is me— I want
To smash through the glass
Pain of your eyes and tear
Down those curtains
Blocking the light—
Then you will see me,
Like a terrible policeman
Come to save you even though
You haven’t called to complain—
I don’t care. I am going
To step straight through
Your walls,
Like the nightmares
Your father gave your childhood,
I am going to hold your
Neck to check the vocabularies
Of your pulse.
I am going to lean you back
And there I am
Going to kiss you—
Afterwards, if you
Cry for me,
I will ask your name.