From Body And Bone Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As awful as the pools without sisters,
Nude stores emptied of unclothed nuptials and now
This,
A short cut to a bosom that dead ends as the waves
Toss,
And all of the necessary washing machines stop their
Machinations,
Like parked cars where lovers no longer caress;
And I think it would be awful if she had to forget me,
No less-
But after the swift lives of fireworks, only so many
Cenotaphs lie with the emptied wrappers
In the trash;
And the fairs of her heart where I once laid captivated,
Tormented and beating my chest through wreathes of
Fire
And pagan fare thee wells- moves on,
Like the fox pot bellied from all the fairy tales he’s destroyed:
And the witches he’s made love to now
As calm at cheerleaders after a show, their bellies like
Stolen watermelons bashfully distended from what jubilations
They have had with all of the charisma exuded
From body and bone.