Poetess Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Poetess, you watch the sun sink
Beneath the tresses, and lie down beneath
The power lines which truncate over
The drying grass;
I used to see you out of the corner of my
Eye, where you carried rings and dishes,
Like a gaseous planet, goslings your
Satellites. You burnished dilapidated houses
When you went into the lake, which
Was your parsimonious bride. Flowers awoke with your
Perfume, and otters swam and grew
Tame, fetched you the thimbles of forgotten
Queens, who have slept so long
That they have not heard the metamorphosis
Of your lips,
How such lines cascade, and you walked with
My sister as she studied to be an animal doctor
In Kalamazoo, but only half of that is true,
The second half because is was convenient:
If I caught you on the swings of a park in Mississippi,
We could motion for trains to exclaim,
And we could cross on the broken concrete over bridges
Which leap like petroglyphs over morbid bayous.
With some respect, I could be your mystery,
And hold your secret like some kind of blackmail:
That you have never written a line, but
Wept when the sky expressed the hosannas of nimbus,
Thus I wrote down for you what I knew you
Would say, after you set down the cup of tea
And hypothesize on the peppermint dregs:
Another man is your lover, I should say, but yes,
I speak with you in vibrant silences,
These things you bight your lip to
Keep from revealing.