Robert Rorabeck Poems

The words travel on out like vagabonds with their feet,
And you are already lying on down with your man, Alma
Like a vagabond butterfly who has found something to eat:
And in the morning you will have to dropp Heidi off at
...

Bodies are here and then they are not:
Souls are taking a vacation, and if I had prettier things then this
Then I would lay them across the knotted strings of marionettes
Across our fair and ventriloquist nation;
...

Maybe I made love to you and maybe there are still Ferris
Wheels, Or maybe I am just as drunk as
A gold fish in its plastic bag sold away from your golden
Silhouette at the fair:
...

Maybe like you say, you love him, Alma:
You love him, and these are your words.
The silent weeds who spread out like dancers before the cataracts of
The honeymoons of the sun.
...

I say I love you even as the petals weep and I don’t
Even know or not if you’ve been counting sheep,
And it hurts my soul that I had to lower my jaw and let you on
Hope, like the lowest scoops of the
...

I’ve been reading and filling in the gaps over
Your make believe Guerrero, Alma:
I’ve been listening to little girls who are walking down
The street
...

Bandy-legged but wearing your favorite color of
Helmet with Ulysses’ wings:
I float on the clouds the mariposas struggle for,
And I pay to sneak into the zoo with you Alma, last Monday,
...

The party lasses are at their sport
Batting eyes across the flight plans of their daily tennis
Courts:
And you ring up their acts on your machine Alma:
...

My liver laps up this fire like kittens do milk
Like vampires:
And I knelt on the other side of your vehicle today
Alma
...

Part of the hemisphere is thick with
Rainbows,
Alma: and I can barely remember Colorado:
That is how far away I am from my last love,
...