Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,238 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

From A Fountain Birthed Of Mexico - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The calendars are fraudulent over my body-
They say what time of the year it is,
As if playing a game of cards- as the brown body of
My muse, crossed over the thresholds again
To be with her young children- and her husband,
In the little house-
Alley cats have eaten the rabbits that once ate her
Mother’s mango tree,
And there are helicopters underneath the stars-
Cars pass before her threshold like pilgrims on
An easy journey- but she doesn’t have to think of
Any of this- and as she turns into him,
Brown bodies coalescing from a fountain birthed
Of Mexico,
With the lights doused around her children,
And fake programs on the television, she doesn’t
Have to think of me.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about From A Fountain Birthed Of Mexico 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?

Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 12, 2011

Poem Edited: Friday, May 13, 2011

[Report Error]