In The Dark Locis Of Bedrooms Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of the silence that Alma gives me today,
Finds me cultivating myself, a gray landscaping for
A flooding grave:
Even though as always the cars come, seething, spinning
Their wheels,
And making their wishes over the head rooms of the
Roofless yards;
And it is painful to breakdown, realizing all of the scars
Drop you so far away
From Mickey Mouse, like Dorothy up amidst the stratosphere,
Pirouetting while asleep,
In the dance classes of lighter than air angels,
While their fathers fence beneath the smoldering eyes of the
Stand to for cats
Who seem to smile as if they know it all:
And I am sure that they do,
Even as the passageways tend to run down until there are no
More monsters,
And in the dark locis of bedrooms without incest,
The heroes diminish without candle light until they are without
Anymore need for themselves.