Just Arriving Poem by Robert Rorabeck

No fields can disguise the flaxen natures of
My own fears:
What gods I have spent- what sorrowful tantalizing
Memories have grafted themselves,
Tattooed into my un hollowed skin,
And even while the housewives bask in the young abutments
Into which they know they can belong,
The tide pulling away beneath them, like the surprise of
A wedding dress sashaying in a ballroom that knows
The hour is growing late,
And soon the metamorphosis it bought at such a high price
Is sure to come undone
Into mice, as the marionette practices one more prayer,
The cars driving themselves home have no time to
Wonder at the vanishing forests-
Or the deeper mysteries who once suckled on the teat
Of a greater kingdom that happened away just as our unborn children
Were waving goodbye,
As we were just arriving there.