Every Memory Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Well, there were flowers outside
For sale,
And we moved amidst them, inhaling,
Stealing their perfume
As the bees did: this was something my
Uncle couldn’t save,
But he still has his unicorn in the cooler,
If you know what I mean,
As my grandfather was in his grave:
And the children who should have
Been to school,
Waited underneath the overpass where
The waves yet echoed:
And in those feral voices, a song-
The memories of sirens saturated there,
And the bells and the lips
Of naiads in their hurricanes-
So the secret orchestras were sung in the
Graffiti’s of their overcast cathedrals,
And at night at home
Sports continued being played- the
Gardens whispered,
And the family prayed- but through the daylight
Desires continued- streaking, foaming,
And answering- vibrations from extending
Shadows- going to brush their lovers
Across the sea- while in their classrooms
The lost girls forgot every memory they cared to
Keep of me.