Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,996 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Like Speartips Into Your Bosom - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

There are reasons that I keep writing it down,
But I am not sure that I remember;
Maybe it is because the lines have made a tragedy of my
Features;
Maybe it is because she has gone away and I know there
Is no more collecting her:
And so I remember things from a life while it was still
Breathing:
I remember my mother stepping over an exposed extension
Cord toward the washing machines in her grotto;
And the Australian pines hiding the chassis of junked but
Beautiful cars,
And in them moldering great heaps of 1970s pornography:
And the days would weep, and shedding their clothes through
Daycare, would get naked: and I would piss in a little
Plastic chair, too afraid for some reason unknown to me;
And my sister would weep for me in turn, and the dogs would
Chase the cats chasing the rabbits through mother’s rock garden
That bloomed especially for Easter;
But all of them would be eaten in the end; my sister would become
A married professional: the road would widen,
And I would be left with nothing else but the sky above smoking
In a cathedral of cerulean fire;
And I would remember other things in the half truths that would
Make me a liar;
So I put them down, realizing that if I can no longer look into your
Eyes, you might still see into my own by these little
Things inching like spear tips into your bosom by soft degrees.


Comments about Like Speartips Into Your Bosom by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010



[Report Error]