Beside Another Man Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All the night is unreal; it has snuck up all of a sudden
Again and is pedaling its nocturnal fruit:
Of course the ghosts are dancing, as if diademing over my lonely
Head,
As I am remembering all the few days spent with Alma,
Casting our souls like nets across the silent green exposures
Of the world that is numbed to my desires
So now I even wonder if she can even feel it: that it is so strange
And necessary;
And I have built up every which way I can to be with her,
Even though our house is perfect and sings with the uncanny unisons;
And it makes me a pitiful man, when I am alone:
When I am here trying to partition myself away into the art,
A genie in a bottle in the woods underneath the reindeer
Who move so beautiful,
Or they never move at all, while the cataracts fall behind them,
Delusions with the tears of poor grammar,
And she falls asleep beside another man who she says will not even
Speak to her.