Into Diamonds Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Spiders spinning into diamonds
Or other make-believe'
Your father steps outside, shuts the
Door,
And fires at unicorns'
The place is unclear, but maybe it
Does exist'
The professors say you have to
Be more certain in your writing,
But even they don't know'
They ski on the lake next to the graveyard,
But never go into the graveyard
Or the changing bedlam of the trees:
I look up to her'
She had eyes once for me in high school
But no more:
I have become the satellite of her worldâ€'
And disenchanted, her heart swings
Around the earth
As the cats cry, pretending to want to be indoors.