This Very Cold Holiday Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now your children whisper
And vanish-
Looking beautiful before the mirror of
Your father’s house,
But how long can you hope for
The to survive,
Whist another my stanzas vanishes-
Just as I pull out of another
Whorish
Pornography, wishing through the
Haunted cornstalks,
It was you,
As the waves vanish,
And the airplanes roar into the very
Eclipse of lions,
And now maybe my last true loves
Blooms far away,
Believe in nothing in which I believe
In except for myself-
Until it all because a carnival
Until the fish grow wings and fly through
This very cold holiday into which I’ve
Been touching myself and
Trying to grow wings just so I can have one
Last chance to believe I can grow
Wings,
And stay warm into the cathedrals underneath
Of which I am afraid you are
Forever lost.