Until Everything Dissapeared Poem by Robert Rorabeck

This is not the only thing I stole tonight:
Here are my fingerprints running down your sister’s
Sand dollars while your brother was out trying on
His bicycle, and you gave all of your kisses
To the man in the shadows across your window
With the planes striking his shoulders like matches
As they were touching down- and you broke
The spider’s web as you both came together,
And were undone as if in a sarcophagus’ garden
The bats flew over like heartless angels, where your
Guardian angels were mummified and I played
Baseball with foxes and stillborns- but I still remembered
You as I drank beer to dull the blisters on my fingers,
As you sister got darker with the creatures in the park
And your brother rode his bicycle until everything disappeared.