Issues Of My Absolute Affections Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If you come to me tomorrow- Alma,
And we make love hidden by the ixora, in a house
That is as old as my grandfather,
But which can still get up and dance, then I will be as happy
As anyone:
And I can look forever into the auger darkness of your
Brownest of eyes and never see how big your corneas can grow:
And even while the graveyards grow like wild berries on the drooling
Sunlight and crying rain straight up against the kindergartens and
Playgrounds of the most innocent of children,
Not a single person can deny my love for you:
Or the repeated infatuation of my art for you, or my broken promises
Of sobriety:
And I don’t want to have to make love to any other body, though
I find making love a great necessity:
And I can douse my head underneath the soft skin of your atmospheres
And find so much untroubled gold, and this I can
Take up and save for you like beautiful newborn kittens drooling
The milk of venomous rattlesnakes who had the will never to strike
Anyone, especially star-crossed sailors- right there in the
Bright palm of my hand:
And we can make love forever, growing old together and trust each other
With our suitcases and locker combinations;
And maybe you don’t understand all of this, Alma, but you understand
Enough to know that I love you more sincerely and more incandescently
That the sexiest of stewardesses can love her handsomest of
Passengers,
So when I tell you that I have never laid eyes on a woman as beautiful
As you, how can you argue with the unrequited issues of my
Absolute affections.