poet Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Down Her Interstate Of Cadaverous Holiday

This wind, she is a banshee- she is relentless,
See her shake the cones from the conifers, make aspens
Opalescent naked with this still yet early autumn;
And today I walked the dragon’s ridge,
Trying to pretend that I was somnolent, in a state of
Fever dream, or half-real in love:
Like a re-animated cat, something absolved,
Something that might fuse with her and go out with her to
Lunch and have so much money as to bare children with
Her; and to never have a hunch:
What I am doing now, lighting the wicks for the less than
Virgin theatre- maybe the lost cause of the lost boys
Launch, to crenellate and in-flume the air,
Over the picnic baskets of stuffed watermelons;
And she is on the yard, the gently sloped abutment of
Old cavalries named after their gray generals- she is a southern
Bell- she is ringed and pierced and swelled;
And they are having lunch- sweet peas and fried chicken,
And their children, I can see ’em, half ornamented behind the
Red aquarium, getting drunker, diving down into the golf balls
Of the alligators’ hutch: I suppose I might save them;
But she doesn’t dream about me, the lazing conquistadors
Who, pompadoured, have taken off the parade:
Look at them sleeping rusting, weeping in their translucary
Hibernations: I don’t suppose they should ever care to
Wake up again- absolved to see her speeding fast and leggy
Down the freeways of her pristine arrangement;
Perfumed at the hinges of wrist and ankle: she is a fast beauty,
Metamorphosing, illiterate, what how she destroys us without
A thought, savage instrument, necrotic-fanged, busted,
Down her interstate of cadaverous holiday.

Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 4, 2009

Add this poem to MyPoemList
5 out of 5
0 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about Down Her Interstate Of Cadaverous Holiday by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?