Leaping Through The Snow Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Words are liars and they steal from the moon:
Words are worms trying to escape from
Her succulent womb
In the pink willow tree like a bat in a lee,
Like blood in a bloom:
They are the habitual liars of my false immortality;
And now that I am so very far away,
And spilled my green beer all over the floor
Of the RV,
And Pedro is laughing at me:
And I am scarred and lost and can’t watch TV-
I just want my dogs, my loving kind dogs:
Oh, how I’ve betrayed them when all I really
Want to do is give up everything and
Trip with them to Colorado:
But the words are no good: they are always failing me-
I try to find words to describe my love,
But she just turns away, and doesn’t grieve- Too
Beautiful to be described by these pitiful syllables,
But how I remember her,
How I made her from my words, the slick shadows of her
Siamese sister I suppose she never guessed I had
Fashioned of her,
As if from an assembly line of careless fears,
While my dogs never spoke a thing; and I think it would
Be much better to just run and run
With them, purple tongues lulling, and try to fetch her
In that feral way,
Heartbroken but pure
And leaping through the snow.