Any Aspects Of Your Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Struggling into the whispers of the night—
Pretending to remember the rocking horse of
The merry go round that brought us joy—
That you would not ride, as your children
Were at home,
As your husband was just outside putting a new
Trim on the car—
Until the horizon turned red and, yawning the
Grin of a yellow cat,
Somehow leapt down and partook in your
Grin as well—really only a smile,
Like a promise of springtime and butterflies
Across you laconic exterior—
And now you are not around forever—
It is as if I have lost the soul of my little sister—
Somehow you disappeared from
These bedrooms
Where the mechanisms still move, steal jointed
Through the lush foliage whose tourisms
No longer hold any aspects of your eyes.