The Restless Shadows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Restless Shadows



Beautiful and sudden ventriloquism doing away
With all of the harpies so I just have Medusa to deal with,
And her cave is really beautiful and filled with cars;
Oh, I wish I had my own butterfly, this diminutive woman with
Wings who is attracted by the light of the television, or
By the words I haven’t yet parceled together for her like fruit baskets
For truly deserving brides;
And I will go out and vagabond for a block tonight all amongst the
Constitutions of black men, even though
I had my own skull pressed by a gun right here: When I jaunt
It almost appears as if I am quite beautiful, and so I run out and kiss the
Pavement and imagine all the ladies fanning their opulence above it
And reciprocating with the moonlight:
Alma in the moonlight, hair fire-engine red in shadows, the cats passing
By underneath the coliseums and the civil wars, and the anonymous
Victims of her love spread out in beds they can never afford,
Spread out open mouthed and opened tongued,
Waiting for the sky to open to reveal their lord, while the vagabonds and
Hobos attend restlessly to their stone pillows, like liquored up lords
Of my kidnapped but happy youths,
All of them the blond haired sacrifices for something sharp but beautiful,
Attending to the restless shadows.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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