Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,196 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

In Their Mornings - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Prisms in the bottom of a cup,
As if I am pressed to your lips themselves
Mirror reflections of Siamese pronouns,
And softly bathing manatees at the bottom
Of a housewife's pool—
The day's long surrender into the nocturnal
Where the otters bathe twisted about like
Olives in a martini glass—
Slowly, the sunlight like cadmium and
Gunpowder sacrificed to the universe—
Sinking with all of her animals,
Unto the séances of houses where the mammals
Barely whisper,
And she walks over them, taking their numbers,
And talking to them softly—whispering, whispering
And promising them eggs and bouquets
In their mornings.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about In Their Mornings by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Saturday, August 11, 2012

[Report Error]