The Uncertainty Of Another's View Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I die tomorrow, who will collect my fire insurance:
Some poet on fire island who has never lived past his thirties,
But I’d rather give it all to you,
Alma- you who said to me today that she didn’t want to hurt me:
But I want love,
Alma: I want love, like a fire blazes for oxygen: give me love,
And forgive me for using your name another name in the
Night entrained to the loneliness of my hallucinations,
While the spikenard grows like lutes in another virgin’s grotto,
While all of the houses are no longer home,
While the canals have segregated and taken over all of high school:
While your body is as fine as any poem:
While your body is as wicked and jubilant as any sea that as ever kissed
The belly of any faithful dove and tried to persuade it otherwise,
While I still have all of my loves in my estranged heart,
While you still wear your three rings around your fingers:
My white hear shares the digits of your enamoration, just as I have shared
Tongues with you,
While your children look up into your eyes, who are just as soft as all of
The windows of airplanes passing over the sleepiest of seas,
And the sweetest of nursery rhymes;
And passing into the uncertainty of another’s view.