In Another World It Should Begin To Snow Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Misplaced in a forest that I cannot tell,
Words look up as divers drown, sharp utensils
Of another day placing themselves like organized serpents
Through the blinds,
And girls who I will always love drive away:
If this were a grotto it should be rich with the feral smells of
All their kills,
And everything they didn’t have a mind to put me through:
Now I have a house, I have a tomb, and a tin horn placed
To my lips like a kind of technologic mother
Spewing- Going alone to movies on my birthday,
Feeling the saboteurs undermining the intersections that cross
My body,
Waiting for torches and the long veils that they should wear
Stepping up to kiss me,
If everything the sun has had to say finally went down,
And in another world it should begin to snow.