Just For You Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I want your children inside me, Alma;
I want all of this flesh to wilt, and all of the motor boats
And speed boats to go their own way
And I want nothing else for you, Alma.
I want you out in the soft and wanting penultimate summer
Of South Florida,
For your jaw to be coming through another cenotaph for me bones,
Or another softly dying firework,
While I like a feather from the tail end of a peacock cry out for you,
While all of the other mastiff have their two point children all
Out for you,
While all of those astronaughts have their primary colors heading
Home for you,
While I am just as hooded and as peninsular as a jasmine headed
Home into the sweet or semisweet bodies of your work out that
I have kept just for you, while you are no more sweet
Than all of the others that I keep just so sweetly just for you;
And all in a garden kept so sweetly and just for you:
Just in a garden kept so sweetly just for you, Alma:
Just for you- just for you.