Robert Rorabeck Poems

Our plants rise up like green children through
The red-haired fire:
Your body is a tender brook where the fish sweat and perspire:
And you made it all the way here
...

My body feels like a guinea pig and it is not
Easy getting drunk again
Knowing that Alma is in the house of another man,
Even if it is crowded with her two children
...

I have been to Saint Louis, Alma,
Pulling all that I owned through a wind tunnel that
Was trying to blow out Christmas,
But now I have come back home to find you shining like
...

If your dreams could sleep in unison, then what
Would it matter if our bodies would never touch:
Imagine two candles like brothers and sisters in a candelabrum:
Remember the secret games with your aunt spreading
...

The satin cones vestibule over where the pilgrims walk:
And Alma has made love to her man so many times
After she has made love to me:
She probably can’t even feel me now: how I levitated the bed
...

If this is a game in cricks and solitude,
I have no bats to swing: the birds have no cages in which
To sing,
And they go out and make a naked Christmas underneath the
...

Now you don’t have to sleep alone like an
Envious spring:
Alma, you can go back to bed with him, your children’
Cooing
...

Your children are the most important things,
I know not even college is important,
At least not right now:
And now where will you live, as neither of us are
...

Your sister is yet a wink of a soul,
But I saw you inside of your uncle’s house today:
The walls were not being blown down by any wolf,
But there I was:
...

Sustaining the angels’ sleeping sounds,
Bodies clap the way they used to- and I am making love,
But not while sleeping in
My father’s house anymore: I am all alone out in the
...