When I Was A Wolverine Poem by Robert Rorabeck

you were a virgin
learning about Greek gods
and trying to speak Russian.
Alone in those shady halls
I studied tears.
We sat across from each other
and made fleeting teases
with our eyes
gunning each other down
as or minds raced like
Tennessee studs
and undressed each other,
fucking all day
or at least through Latin Class.
And how my thoughts
echo for you now
where you stained
perfect
a beauty mark
in my ugly mind
across the distance
of blasted years
In blasted lands
I long for you
and howl your name
to the mountains
I hear your beauty
in the naming whispers
among the aspens;
but you are all gone
from here,
you have walked between
the bloody waters
to your own promised land.
Here,
virgins are for sacrifices
and you would not cut off
one bit
for me
and I have forgotten how to speak,
with my eyes,
the language of our high school
that has laid dead
for a decade