For Forgiveness Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Alone in a bankrupt Spain- How I look at
You; it’s like I’m locked out of the house wearing
My stuff for Halloween way back when
I still had friends and potential; I’d kicked out all
The lights and hid from the cops,
And if you didn’t come like something trained,
Came into the beating penumbras of what wasn’t
Real- And you were everything, just the perfect shadow
Doing what she was trained- How your body was like
A bag of free sugar to me,
Dabbed on your like an addicted hummingbird,
In ways that couldn’t spell, went on all along you until
I became dehydrated, and realized everything I said
Was failing with the dawn- Handcuffed on your blue
Mowed lawn, and weren’t you inside moaning like a leggy
Tide with your stuff for better boys, a new holiday of
Things,
Christmas under the tree tackling your dining saints,
Loving your godly sailors through the tides of your bed sheets,
Two houses with wet paint; and when the mailman came
With misspelled gifts for you, lifted by the eager tongues of
Other admirers, you let us in with the ants crawling
And at the breakfast of a hung over sky, all you had to offer
For forgiveness.