The Wolves Are Still Hungry Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My liver laps up this fire like kittens do milk
Like vampires:
And I knelt on the other side of your vehicle today
Alma
And raising your pants leg kissed your ankle
Which you somehow made me believe was the supplice
For a brown fairy:
And you wore the gold that I fixed for you after it broke
After the first time we made love:
And I bought you roses clouded with the clouds of
Tears the woodcutting angels sawed:
And the airplanes went down to sniff and drink your burnished
Hair:
And it was not real- that you wear size extra small,
But your eyes drink the world, and your two children have been
Weaned off your two brown nipples;
And the rabbits have disappeared, but I am so sorry,
Alma,
Because the wolves are still hungry.