The Reverberations Of Your Name Poem by Robert Rorabeck

One more day and I’ll have the semblance
Of beauty again,
As if her fingers were on the strings of a
Wicked marionette,
But it never lasts forever- It really doesn’t
Even last as long as a few words spoken
Into the cornice of her ear,
Before all that she thought is persuaded out
And eaten for some long beaked dinner;
But there are cars that last forever,
And bouquets who have gone into hiding in
The Colorado rockies whose throats still
Sing
Under the unpinned ears of the clouds,
Who smile like a zoo of animals,
While the cabins are hibernating in a fever,
And you are selling your wines,
Forgiving the independence of snowflakes
Falling, or whatever it is that you do:
While, laid out on the alluvial plane the crypts
And graveyards last forever,
Their cut stones singing the reverberations of
Your name.