The Pilots Of The Midnight Of Faraway Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The petering out of the substances of a heart
Stain the carpets of an imaginary threshold
Where all of the thoughts of the muses step inside
Bringing her gifts,
But she is already losing herself into the backyards
Where alligators grin like the cenotaphs for
Conquistadors
And the pilots of the midnights of faraway promise
To bring her roses—yes, she is already gone—
Maiden of the sorority that is impossible to
Befriend—she turns your heart into a rabbit
Trapped by a wolf
As she invites you indoors—and looks the
Other way—to the sea, the stars, and to the
Stolen moon in the sky.