Only Just Because Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I suppose there is a graveyard made
To believe the negro—censures of my graveyard:
To choke the children into believe they
Are swans
Before even the earliest enamel of the city streets
Have to dissuade themselves at anything:
Make it all make believe and beautiful,
Even with another country coming up above the
Horizon:
Make her first emergence beautiful,
If only just because you can:
And the city is laid out on her slab of patriotic
Graveyards:
And made to taste the lactates of lycanthropes and of
Werewolves:
While the other cities just piled underneath her anyways-
While the most picturesque cities
Seemed to tame themselves, basking in the lameness
Of their very own meanings and then—then—
Only just because.