One Single Love Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Groggy night in your estuary—
I can still hear the Mexicans trying to sell some
Ice-cream
In the afternoon after church on Sunday—
And it is all a miss—the graveyards are dancing,
Your knights have chased off
After their witches of another Christmas—
And the baseball fields lay out all
Emptied as an archaeological dig after a rainstorm:
My muse has hung herself like the
Heavenly ornament in the living room
Of another man she cannot possibly love
Because she happens to love me—and this
Is the end of this—nightmarish serpent devouring
Herself throughout the swing-sets of eternity:
As the day in its life goes:
Candles blown like paper airplanes across the canal:
And the boy whom we have known as Jack flits and
Leaps, doing all of his tricks without so many
As one single love possibly being in his heart.