Robert Rorabeck Poems

Off on another shoulder, freckled and
Upstairs,
An angel wing in a bed- the sheets cerulean:
Of course they are halfway covering your
...

She cannot call me, and that’s all right:
The moon still rises over the park, and her shoulder;
And her beauty reflects in the lake of another
World:
...

Broken, and the children are moving home now
Like snails through a forest ruined
By fire: and someone is shouting,
And someone is pointing out,
...

Enveloped like a wino in the beautiful loneliness
Of a park
I think of things that everyone thinks upon while alone:
Alma calls me on her way to work,
...

Green as a sick jewel,
Like a rattlesnake with a tooth ache knee high in
The parks
Of my childhood, and all of my dogs are lost,
...

In the morning, work- and the silence of
Cars going by their way:
Like rattlesnakes in their joys of being unperturbed:
Like dogs who whisper to the cats
...

World of joy fill in my veins, a coloring book when no
One is at home,
The paper airplanes folded on the lucky carpet like dying birds:
Eyed by the serpent that no one thought to see-
...

Filling in things here, as if in a delta all of the traffic
Streams to- past museums
And down the luscious concrete slope of a
Parking garage as smooth
...

Mobilized into other parks farther along- buying
Her flowers and sending them to places
She no longer works anymore:
Streetless cars losing their clothing and pornographies
...

Hard up from here- a castaway of junkyards
But feeling let down- movement in the gimbals
Of weeds- swore parts for relationships that
Never existed, walking my dog alone in the park,
...