Until The Morning Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Trying again against the cul-de-sacs of water moccassins,
Trying to fill out loneliness with well meaning words,
Eulogizing the bright meanings of your beautiful brown flesh
Across the roadways and high watermarks of illusions
In a forest of dry theatre,
In a living room of nursery rhyme: while the windmills troop
Across the frozen lakes to wide to wish across;
And you are once more in your little room bunked down
Before the birthdays of hurricanes;
And it feels alright to have you missing beside me as I dance
Like a tiger through its ringing flames,
Whilst the angels make trapeze, and the sleepless commuters
Blaze,
Until the morning when the comets tuck their tails in
And run.