His Smile Begins The Gleam Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In a confused night, the stars close up like
Virgin buds,
The gloomy tortoise parts his mouth to eat
The nocturnal roses,
The somber petals turning brightest red to pulp
Somewhere within the silvery drawers of the ancient beast
Her slight hands come down upon, eggshell trembling
For the sound and force of thunder, as from the
Dark fleet of clouds gallops vigilantes off the Mediterranean—

Her youth has drowned and it feels like
The bodies of azure sailors are lodging
In her clotted throat, revenants the sky displays garroted with
Briars of scarring lightning that flicker the undeviating sorrow
Her face contains, a failed vessel overflowing at the eyes
To look upon the grey tombs of sunset and the sea
A necropolis coming alive, each wave a white stone
Rolling over, as if the dead underneath wished to
Rise from the briny knolls, to overcome the guard-man tide and
Walk the cindered beach upon sunset—

There on the torpid cliffs she is only an echo,
The grey shroud her heart lays in a sack for murdered game,
Her lips play like muted instruments against the storm’s
Wicked lamentations, the carnival of mattered beasts
Stealing away the dreams of a young girl’s bedroom,
Leaving only the sky broken apart, a window thrown wide,
The clouds its tattered curtains, revealing to her the
Horrific silhouette of night’s face,
Crescendos as his smile begins the gleam.