The Heralded Cities Poem by Robert Rorabeck

So we had lunch together and then I died
And licked the spilled liquor off the coffee table
I bought for a song,
And even now I am listening to the train, and typing so much
Nearer to the sea that it is always dying in one place,
Like the rape of wildflowers,
Or the saturnine quibbling of really luscious lions;
And I pick up my stance and emasculate myself for you,
Just to show you the skinned knees of
Beauty,
Alma:
This is how you do it, without any kings or their vagabonding
Heroes:
This is how my lonely night burns, and this is how I intend to
Die for you tomorrow,
Alma,
Rising up like emolliated sugarcane over the ancestors in
A graveyard, Alma,
Even while the lions yawn because they are bored by the wrecked
Vestibules of my features,
Alma,
Just as with today, I had to waylay you in your caravan just
To hold you up to show you the fourteen karat jewelry I gotten for
You,
Just for working the weekend for your aunt:
Alma, your eyes are the darkest and yet the brightest memories;
And can’t you see now,
Alma- but in the reflections of my ruin maybe you will remember
What I have done for you,
Even while your cars burn away, and you children grow up
Grand and tall,
Like the narrow gage offspring of gods in the rich perfumes of the
Orchard outside of the crowded properties of the
Heralded cities.