Robert Rorabeck Poems

In kindergarten with the purple tulips
And my first love:
We learn the alphabet and nursery rhymes:
I envision her lips indenting the sea,
...

The last of the rum swoons in my throat,
The ghost of a bullet hole in my right temple:
The temporary lines of the minor leagues
Glowing in dim hallucinations
...

I.

The areola is mine.
I saw it hanging around the sun
...

Sullen women, and beautiful,
With no lines in their palms:
Their mother is inside the red tent
Under the swaying palms:
...

These egos are playing musical chairs
On a blue marble cloudy with men:
We are trying to pronounce our children
Into the oasis in the obliterating void:
...

The heavy philologist is in the city,
Sharing eyes which chrome with god:
Each twitch is an entire sentence,
Each look a vociferous tomb-
...

Now we sell out,
And if we’ve done it right
We’ll soon be fattened by our gold,
And can call the mischief in
...

Do not let that get in your head,
Because I will fail you-
Do not let the sun become your lavender crutch,
Because it may awaken the mother in her,
...

Because I paid them,
They made her to look like you-
The beer maid of the sky’s arcade,
But I would only admit to
...

A marvelous execution is coming today.
New boys are becoming men,
Though already their wives
Are taken by the enemy.
...