Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,996 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Her Roofless Caves - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wayward bodies of men somnambulate stealing
The tired, black-lipped kisses of housewives in parks,
So far away from their trailer hoods of dreams,
Like something of a decrepit wish the sea has washed to someone
Even more anonymous and unreal;
And I guessed that I wasn’t her savior anyways,
Because I am shadier than that darkening neighborhood because
I never bathe;
And the satellites overhead have been there since Christmas,
Running around and ululating like videogames;
So underneath the garlands of power lines, she and her sisters live
And breathe, and like the waves they come again and go away,
Causing a fright of the surreal, petting animals with their
Caesuras, asking us to shave: I wished that she would come again
Someday, stepping barefoot through the threshold of my
Yellow grave I am just opening for her like the opened books
Of a butterfly who is hoping for time to save him until
He can reach the sweet nectars growing as bright as nenuphars from
Her roofless caves.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010



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