Like The Mixing Teardrops Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Most tender eyes upon the womb
Of a child of a night'
The vampire sits forlornly at her window in
Tallahassee, Florida'watching the switchbacks of
The hills,
And the apartments that roll through them
Like a labyrinth'the blue children going
To school'getting up
Kitty-cornered to the graveyards: all the lost
Heroes forsaken to their epitaphs'
The heavens having sunken up to her
Elbows'the airplanes her berets'
Her parents lost somewhere in the sea like
The mixing teardrops of one too many gods.