Stormcloud Halo Over Scabby Knees Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I love you, but tonight I will be riding horses,
Each one a glorious wave, a lapping crowd about your opal knees,
And it will be snowing the sepia ash of your disinterest,
And your cigarettes,
So that the cloudbanks billow the gothic shrouds,
And the swings arc unoccupied toward the belly of the leafless
Oaks, and the power lines bow swaybacked like hanging ropes
Where the crows perceive like winged men waiting in line
The disinterest of your glorious eyes in the bath
Of the failing light where they lay like sated predators,
Cleanly licked and insouciant after a melodramatic wash.