In The Wings Of So Many Throaty Migrations Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It takes a whole year for some people to
Reject my words,
But they have just done it; and gifted me with
All that time of tiny little hope,
Of hidden jaw-bone springs,
Of all sorts of tiny new birds who have come
To these lower eves to pullulate and twitter as if
They were the leaves;
And I love her still, though being defeated,
And last night I would have hung myself with an
Orange extension cord- but that doesn’t need
To be repeated- the light is daft, and the light
Is starboard; and I am swimming hard toward
Her craft- In fact I am flying upward using
Pillows and holding my breath, making the gesticulations
Of a homing pigeon- so let her crease me with
Somnambulant light and lay me down across her bed,
Her study board- and interact with me while spinning
Her jubilant records over the trees who are dancing
In the wings of so many throaty migrations.