The Most Beautiful Gift Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I have another open wound for you,
So open your eyes only when I look away.
Do you see how fast the clouds are moving;
They are busy to go shopping, to
Bring home the rain:
Each dropp should fall on us with its own
Identity, even if you don’t care anymore.
Up and down the street lets take the
Camera and take still photographs
Of dogs biting their masters,
Leaping in sepia, and the hues only the
Eyes of such animals suspect.
I was once in California, but you didn’t
Care. I worked at Subway for a day,
And filled semi trailers all night,
But there was nothing there to take care of me,
And I went alone to the parks and rolled down
The dewy grass,
And there was metal there painted and put together
For children, and I am writing so fast so that
I might finish before they grow up. Everything
Is so theatrical, and should be self-published,
But that is not brave, just as I should write
A poem, to display my wounds before they
Should heal, to make if not money from them
Time: If you come to this park, how could
I know who should come, but I’ve set the trees
And the lengths of rope. If we cannot fly,
We should at least hang, and the let wind whistle,
And the ants find their way, as they will.
If that is what you want, then you should come,
Because I know you have a great body, and if
Your soul should leave it, it would be perfect.
Now don’t curse, you won’t because I am talking
To the wall of an old apartment that was close to a de-
Cade ago where angels swam disguised as vagrants
In the pool down below, as the rains engorged and
Blurred the lights, and the train moved not far
Off and the leaves shuttered near midnight as if
From the novel of a little girl;
So you are not here anymore, the elk bugle
Across the valley, recalling a rut,
And the man with the money lays the gun
On the table and counts the bills.
Soon I will have to pay for it, and a bar of
Light will come across her eyes, but I will
Replace them with yours before I walk back
Onto the sweaty street where you once passed by,
If you don’t recall.