My Homeless Home Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Suns on fire; it’s what they do,
Like your children on the Merry Go Round,
Or in their yards after school:
And you told me you had two rabbits; but now you lie in the
Very same bed as your man who left you for
Mexico
And came back again- and in my silent thoughts I wonder if I
Am the only man you have had otherwise in the imperfections of
Your flesh:
Soon your daughter will be two: her bones will be solidifying,
And her vocabulary will grow:
She will walk prouder and prouder across your yards,
Until she cannot be contained;
As I wonder how many times I may kiss your lips again and
Again;
Alma-it is all I ever wonder, and at night while I am alone,
These thoughts become my Christmas floating in beautiful lights
Across my homeless home.