Nets Of Honey Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Nets of honey spooled around a muse that doesn't
Exist—you get up in the morning and wash his car,
Waiting for your husband to come home—
The neighborhood of your existence is gilded if beautiful—
And you are all of the tricks of a two headed coin that
Once touched my bedroom—now you are in the flight
Of your life, never learning how to leave the ground—
Loving him from inside all of your nests with the hopes
That hibernate straight through all of the sunbeams—
Hoping that very soon there will exist a season for all of
You holidays, and the old days can be forgotten—
The infidelities, and the money that you owe me,
And you can go on hanging by his side, finding new ways
Of getting around the absences of loving him year by year.