The One Who Got Away Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh well, the day wakes up so fast.
All of a sudden the ten grizzly bears run off
From where they’d been nuzzling my meats:
I think they suspected that if they cracked me open,
Like a comb they’d find some honey;
And with them the shadows waken up, black eyed,
At first lengthen but then thoroughly retreat,
Around noon
And the raccoon sleeps with my eyes in the wheel wells
Of our slick machines,
The day gets healthier and young wives have
Adulterous picnics,
And kindergarteners start off in their own woods to
Turn into the stymied or clever animals of
Fables;
And I have a favor to ask: and I am biting my lip,
But you are always so busy talking, or masticating with
Your venerable creatures of the forest,
That I have a hard time disturbing you,
Tapping you on your shoulder, or to razzle-dazzle
You with spikenard;
So instead I do this: I do this while all the prized
Angels are taken down from the top shelves
Even as the carnival moves away,
And the beautiful creatures and sleuthy forests
Somehow get on down to another eager city,
All things moving on at a steady clip
As I wait right behind you in class, waiting for you
To turn and acknowledge,
Or just to shift your weight so I might get one more
Glance at the one who got away.