The Sincerest Basins Of My Songs Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The night fills up anything that it can:
It feels up the houses and the lands of this world,
If anything,
That is what it does, while your eyes still burn for me:
Alma,
Burn and sparkle like great auburn vases in perfect
Symmetry out on the perfect shore:
While all of my love lies out its stuff, revealing to you
All of my cards, all of my guts;
As if I am throwing a game of baseball,
As if I do not know so many words, as if I am just
Enamored by the swans in their dearest basins
Off from the carports
And the trailer parks; until it is their time again to move:
And I will love you again, Alma;
And I will always love you for this long, as long as
Your throat holds to the sounds in the sincerest basins of
My songs.