The Lingering Perfumes Of A Girl Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My thoughts can hold no gravity to a vanished soul:
And looking down upon all of this graveyard and all of
Her plots,
The breathless mouth is open, but what will it sing,
Like a candle shut out,
The words are dead fireworks for smitten holidays:
The housewives start out shoeless going to see the long-toothed
Lions,
And the moon is so over ripe it has fallen, and I can almost
Smell her in my house, the lingering perfumes of a girl
Who I am certain will no longer move for me.