Robert Rorabeck Poems

Hammers in a circus
And little girls with blonde hair: see which way
They are moving,
Notice how they care- lackadaisically through the
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I’ve been playing by the rules:
I’ve been to California and touched the sea
By myself,
But never thought of the butterfly- web of
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Secret fountain listening to the hummingbirds
In the garden:
Build at right angles to her trinkets-
Thick with the amoebas of tadpoles
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Sweet mineral room of a talking skull,
You linger over my desk as the sky ticks-
Echoes of girls on the swings
Over the rain puddles that dry before lunch
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River, what do you symbolize- it isn’t
Love that flows through you
Coming down the mountain, leaping
And showing yourself over
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Imperfect, underneath an overpass,
Underneath the stolen moon- while bicycles
Recline in the dark shadows,
And turtles have more than one shell:
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Imperfect though beautiful weather
Inflating the weather veins,
Carving the tombstones were the zoetropes
Of lost housewives step so
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I try, match in the wind- I flame-
And die after school- the busses leave me
Like Monarch butterflies,
The lions finish the yawn,
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Moon grows over the snakes
As I wonder what they are feeling: their bodies
Must feel the grass, each
Blade like a kiss, as they sojourn to the well,
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Light as smooth as rainstorms
And then of purple cars- I can feel my pulse
In the highway
Underneath the sky- as you move with
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