Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,893 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Prolific Stock Of Your Divine Hips - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Homonyms of lovers city on the benches in the zoo,
While the rains patter on the Faber shay of my illusioned caves:
This is like the light underneath the decorative paper of
A Chinese lamp glowing forever
In a grotto- either yours or your mothers or your daughters:
It is you long destiny in the deserts where no a single tree breathes,
Where terrapins evaporate,
And airplanes become mirages, where spelunkers go down underneath
The roots of name and malanga, where the blindness of
Believers wins an unspoken lottery;
And all I can say is that your world is always, always comforted by
Air-conditioning; and it always so sweetly on the move:
And I wish I could have become the hero of a silent quest for you,
But now it is already to late: my birthday candles will forever burn
With the wishes of growing lips,
Because you already have your man and he has grown your children
Up and tenderly from the prolific stock of your divine hips.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 11, 2010



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