So Many Melanies Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Pains of the passionate void of so many Melanies:
The passages of so many mute voices, homonyms for dragons
And forget-me-nots; or anythings gathered together and shivering
In cul-de-sacs or sweating out for so many birthdays;
And when it comes around again, this birthday or the next
4th of July, wont I be just as lonely,
Calling you out from the sweet vintage of all that you have planted
For yourself and your children and your man:
And now I am very lonely, and I am just whom I am:
This night divides; it is doing good math before it has to fly away,
And Melanie is on her path: she is eating her forearm just so
She doesn’t have to confront the better toothed boys before she has
To be all alone, into the water parks of her sweet amusement.
Into the water fountains spitting over her still articulating bones;
And this is how we hang up and get in touch with ourselves;
And this is how the wolves sing,
And this is just how I look drinking liquor and drawing swords straight
Into the mirror of all of this loneliness.