Become Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It’s time to leave now,
Before the last Christian dies,
The way I am dying; it’s time
To take up all the few things I
Know and walk away—Sylvia
Plath stuck her head in the oven
And turned it on, so I can do it.
I can’t stay here with the last
Christian after the sun has died
And all the lights are turned out,
Still waiting for Jesus, still
Believing. I have to work these
Bones, because she never loved
Me, and I always was alone,
So I must move upon this earth
As the days grow hotter and
The tears run in floods, I must
Go toward her and forsake
The ark, the forgotten
Goddess who hears my name
As the wind whispers through the
Leaves of trees still high upon the
Mountains. I must escape the cities
And find her there, alone, naked,
To make love one final time
To a truth no one else sees, there
I will disappear near the summit
Of the highest peak and become.