Because Of Lightning Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Angels sell prisms above the lunchroom
As the children argue for half an hour—and their thoughts
Wander in a tangle of strings: that night
The baseball or football game will be cut short
Because of lightning—
And the woman who runs naked through my heart,
Will get off of the horse she calls by my name,
Forever abandoning it to the outdoors and
To the amusement parks of others—
And she will walk indoors—
And have an easy time of it, with her children crawling across
Her brown skin—Then, by tomorrow, she can wake up
Any time she wants too—her cousin or someone else
Will already be cutting the grass—running the glass
Snaked and the metamorphosed princes to their borders—
And the mail will arrive—from the beaks of storks
Or evaporated from mail trucks—and she will
Sit forever peaceful on the cinderblocks where she thrives—
Knowing—half-contended that she will never again
Receive another message from the very man who used to be
Who I am.