Once More And Again Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Little faces singing in the crepuscule of a
Doused ballroom;
Faces where gravity has its hooks; and they are singing
Folksongs:
Lips flicking like coins off the gravity you have never
Heard:
Twining up like the friction of springboard ballerinas:
They leap a little ways like the geysers of tinfoil
Fireworks,
The meteors who don’t know that they can be stars:
They leap over trucks and caracole windmills;
They turn this way like ashes from a grandmother’s tomb
That is burning;
And you have your lover, always folded into his arms:
I can almost see him, and I know he has been talking to you
All day until it was muted again
And mutually you closed your eyes and lay like angels in
A matchbox in a tool shed in an aquarium;
Or in a slender ballroom;
But listen to these lips: They are not doused; they are still
Flickering so you can almost read by them;
They happen over power lines and empty churches;
They open for no one: No girls love them, while you sleep in
The comfortable afterglow with your man. Maybe they will
Start one last fire to reawaken your senses and bring you back
Once more and again.