The Guesses Of Innocent Children Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Rabbits flutter under foot:
Like little green snails in the hooves of traffic:
And Alma is at home and all too aware that she and her
Children will
Have to eat her rabbits: I asked her to name one of her
Rabbits after me:
Name it Robert and cut its throat, if you do not love me,
Alma:
Watch it bleed to the curb and across the snow;
So if Sharon finally saw me she would certainly know that
I was not beautiful.
That I was as stained as a mattress beautiful grapes had been
Tramped into,
Like this world of cars and airplanes all of the time:
I have been out into the middle of this world,
But you will never guess what I could have found;
And now all of the houses have two hearts
Beating like drums around
The hearth where the fire is missing, where the stars have burned out:
Where the lovers are no longer kissing,
Where the guesses of innocent children have all been found out.