The Ancestries Of A Morgue Of Apple Trees Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Enough of this and then everything:
Back at home- loneliness: the fish bones of a
Cat waking up in a devoured nest:
Secret vanities in the pitchfork pines;
As the way my Alma lies down with him:
The man she can never truly love anymore:
But who has given her both her children-
According to the traditions
That never sleep anymore- and the other homeless
Places; the fireworks are over:
Their good colors still linger in the corneas or wherever:
It is a reminder of things that used to be beautiful
But which were too beautiful to last forever,
Lingering like the ancestries of a morgue of apple trees.