The Departures Of Her Grace And Rapture Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I offer up goodwill to my soul;
I salute it with drinks and promise to remember it on its
Birthday,
And give it heartfelt consolations that it should have had to have
Been birthed too close to the sun to carry life on it;
And all I can acknowledge is the noise the lonesome cars make
Dipping into the collection pools
From the over spilling bodice of rain, their wheels getting all the
Leaked milk from her messy child;
And I wonder about her, introspecting on the aspects of her
Features like a comet who doesn’t come around anymore,
Who only came around through high school
And must have mistaken me for beautiful once or twice before
Deciding not to come around anymore,
But somehow she remembered my birthday which is the reason why
I am drinking for her and showing her my face
With its eyes sad, with the dysfunction that were all that
Remained after the departures of her grace and rapture.