Sadder, More Beautiful Conflagrations Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Blood roses on my cheeks
Seeped off the mats where I’ve laid
The things I’ve killed or
Stolen,
The game that went away after kindergarten,
The nouns and other things which marched
Without much forlorn contemplation
Out of the house at crepuscule;
And Evan is back from the movies
And the housewives will be looking at him,
The cat is alone with the gold fish,
And the strangely sagacious trees are weeping
For the world of another sun,
But that is a good sign,
For I hope it means your eyes will bloom again
Of the opinion of blue or green
Or one of the other haunting colors of
Your sadder, more beautiful conflagrations.