Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,195 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Poltergeist Biding Its Time - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Boats of a long-lipped scar:
I play the housemaid of a truant, I don’t get too far:
When I was a ghost, I made it all the way
To Spain,
But when I died as ghost, living I came back home
And the city, and the village grew with invention,
And you could hear what they were making all night through
The swift toed streets.
They made those too, and the university, and the halogens
Over the soccer filled stamped with cleats;
And I loved a girl there,
I suppose:
I loved a girl there from the rose bushes no body
But I had already died there.
I had already been eaten by the swifter avenues of the petty
The petty men who got her first and afterwards she wouldn’t
Let me in;
And now I sleep all night alone atop the rooftops of
Ancient high schools.
Like a laughing skull I swig my gin:
And I can almost taste her, taste her, while I kick and
Flutter like a laughing wind vane far beneath the
Swift toed airplanes,
The venal rocket ships, the unequivocally winged devices
She cleans houses in;
And it must be petty of me spending my breathless time
Repeating the abuses that she has forgotten;
But she is just a simple girl biding her time,
While I am the fruit that is really rotten:
I am the poltergeist biding its time inside a boy who is

Comments about The Poltergeist Biding Its Time by Robert Rorabeck

  • (12/24/2009 8:35:00 PM)

    soaked each one of these lines up, i did! rock on~~goldy (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 24, 2009

[Report Error]