For A Little While Everyday Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Ruined as I go this way singing to my
Tomb,
Over foxes in love with their prey: little things getting
Littler ever day:
Alma makes love in her bed of far away-
Browness and evaporation,
The sport of the numbers never figured upon,
The hidden estuaries cleaved from a world of bereaved clouds:
She spreads like an envelop cast into the sea
Without a bottle:
Is torn up and sinks, and never wanders over her wounds
High in the skydiving places where she first made love:
She sings as she goes down into the bosoms
Of the world,
And forgets how he haunts her for a little while:
In these little times we make love,
Before she remembers all that she was to her again-
A wildfire in the back of an untamed horse,
Performing for a lighthouse who cast her light away from
The sea that I cried for her for a little while
Everyday.