Inky Zippers Of Linear Octopi Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Inky Zippers Of Linear Octopi



We can’t get married- the little princess tells me everyday,
Brown and dizzy, like Pocahontas on a seesaw,
Braving all of the elements that took her here across Mexico:
Now she wants a boob job
But not another child- and she has a hernia that I hope will
Soon mend;
And when she gets home to him, she goes right to sleep:
Or she slips out of her clothes and into the bathtub from which
She can see the mango tree in the backyard
About which her rabbits have disappeared which made her
Mother Rosa happy, as they were eating all of its rich leaves;
And I have gotten drunk to sleep on the roof
Across the street;
And when she is washed and my Alma is cleaned, she goes into
A bedroom where she never reads and she turns out the
Light and turns to sleep: or she makes love,
While the dogs run their ever faithful races over her shoulders:
Either they are lucky or are they are not,
But at least I do not think she can hear the rattle of trains
Like inky zippers of linear octopi that separates her world
From mine- and I am almost certain she never wonders out at
Night to bite her lip and shiver looking up into the strange curses
Echoing from the stars.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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