Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,195 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Erin - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Should I try to write you a sonnet
Named after you—I believe I have
Done that before, but it only made you
Concerned, so your fingers crawled away
From a keyboard that sometimes would speak
With me. If I told you I loved you, would that cause
You to pack up and drive five states further
Away, to begin to scr-w a new man just
Because you couldn’t understand why it
Was I loved you? Should I need a reason to
Say the reasons for the things that I do,
But if I can’t stand now, will it be okay for
Me to dropp to my knees and ask you to marry me,
If only to rest by your head breathing on our pillow?
I have now had a desire to taste you for over a decade,
And the least you can say is okay, you can
Dine on me unprotected for one night, even if you don’t
Know the real reason why my parents gave me
My name. Blinded by the fury of the world,
I have followed you like a dog who smells the
Unexpected blossoms in a hidden glade he comes upon
Which jogs by him with a night decorated in your legs.
If I love you, so what? If I love you, need there
Be a reason? Let us pay the man, and ride on that together.
There you are, the ripeness of life
Strung on the tree where you live, being plucked
By invisible gentlemen who will never see you. If I have
Known anything, it is my love for you. If I have seen
Anything in this life’s starless night, it was your face
Adorned by lips who spoke my name and kissed my neck.
For 2 years, you have kicked and neglected me, because you
Didn’t like the way I crawled up beside you when you
Were expecting someone else. I won’t even send you
This now, because you will say that I’ve been drinking,
And shake your head even though secretly you want
To believe me. Instead, I will wait outside your door
And hope that you will find me early in the morning,
And let me in before anyone else sees, to sleep naked
With you and your dog. There, before the sun becomes
Fully reborn, we might share secret sips on Shakespeare,
And we can begin to sell each other on the names of
Our children, if you aren’t so frightened when
I tell you I have no other reasons for loving you
Other than you will always be beautiful and
You know my name.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Poem Edited: Thursday, May 19, 2011

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