The Names Of Our Ancestors Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Names Of Our Ancestors



Well, the cities pullulate and strut in the atmosphere:
They are making a crystal gown out of their tenants whose tresses
Diadem with sea horse eggs that procreate a legless stampede
Into the oceans:

In its panoply of enigmas,
The races get started for the extinction of man:
In the somber music of estuaries, they are making a séance
By which will be forgotten all of the names of our ancestors:

In those bygone eras, the beauty of centerfolds is faded
Into the rotted pages of the swamps:
Wherein even the most beautiful of men is legless
And is using his arms to climb towards the lizard's embankment:

Only one star remains, shimmering faintly- already destroyed,
An echo of the final hope, a booby-trap for the human condition
Flashing on and off above the chicken-pox desert.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
Close
Error Success