Wedding At My Funeral Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The time has not come before
And this is new.
The light is opening for the day
An ingénue displaying her bosom
To man’s face-
I remember when
I was young in following her.
Her tassels feeling through the trees
And drinking roots,
She laughed even while
Alone;
Giggling,
She rode her bicycle across campus.
I staid up all night and prayed for her.
When tired, she slept
In the shade of a house-
Eyes half closed. I came to her,
She yawned and turned me away.
She said she loved me
Only when she was drunk,
And it was yet that time-
So long ago, yesterday...
Then early this morning she came to me
And offered me the quaff
Of lips.
Dripping nectar on the limbs,
She said, “Never before now, old man,”
As they lowered me in the grave,
Her light budded
A valleyide of rubrum,
A wedding at my funeral.