The Artworks Of My Bachelorhood Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Artworks Of My Bachelorhood



Where my wife sleeps with our
Child inside her
Garmented by the freckling shadows
Of our afternoons—
Married for one year,
And even without speaking
She promises me I will never have
To learn Spanish—
But I will have to go back to
School on Monday and
Pretend to have to teach
Some children
While our child swims inside of her—
The artworks of my bachelorhood
Gone up in immolations
Of the sky—
All of the muses tossed away to
The wolves of their husbands
And boyfriends—
Or to stranger, more exotic lovers
Who come in at night
Groomed off the sweat of baseball diamonds—
And flood those old muses until they
Are at least drowned ten feet beneath
Glittering insincerities—
As my art of untruth lingers with me
Into some other afternoon—
As the sunlight promises itself to the grass.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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