In The Extinct Romances Of A Christian Valentine Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Do you remember the bicycle clutched to the
Cursive edge:
Not waiting to go anywhere,
And waiting for nightfall—
The beautiful death of infants,
And her parents to come home to her—
And the shopping malls filled up with
The birth of Christmas—
And rainbows apexes of their own surmises—
All in yellow surplus,
Harrowed of their own realizing:
Courts of virgin acrobats—
And the tomorrows of pitfalls and search warrants:
A beautiful curtain called to her room,
Done in by a poisonous mermaid
Or an asteroid—
And the sky all of a yellow nimbus,
And the mariposas birthing clouds in the extinct
Romances of a Christian valentine.