My Spouse Poem by Robert Rorabeck

She is already yours: and you can dream for awhile that this
Remains here:
But you have made progress:
Like tourists going high up into the ice cream shops of
Colorado with their just as many children,
The marvelous wind chimes echoing them like the lost
Children of Peter Pan:
You can go in anyways and flex your muscles, but it is the only thing
She can still hear:
Warmed to the muzzle, as Heidi bites her teeth and learns her first
Words:
You are making progress and catching the sunlight winnowing over
The hopscotch of your penultimate grave:
While the clairvoyant boys from Guatemala count their lucky eggs before
They’re
Hatched, and the thief and his liar fly their kites above the
Flea markets of their over pass;
But it always has to end like this: it does: it’s true; and
Yvette certainly does have to be my sister in law, because I have been
Ultimately respectful to alma and all of her rules;
While her soul and all of her names fire like bees keeping kindled in
An apiary in a forest fire in the downtowns before the sea
Even before I bought my house; and now I am lonely,
But before long now I recollect that Alma- Alma will certainly have to be
My spouse.