Lies From A Busied Restaurant Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Doorbell to these classes:
Rusted hinges over the silent creaks of
Salt:
Whose eyes to you cry from:
And from what heavens do you fall
Down from.
Saying you loved me- lies from a busied
Restaurant,
And the daylight fell upon your brown
Shoulders,
As you thought to forget about
My broken body of
Broken kisses: the busses faltered
Through the mottled pornography
Beside the eaves-
Until it became just as still as Christmas-
And, just as lucky for you,
The angels forgot to take you to school.