To Make A Romance With My Tomb Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You have put me here,
Burned and blinded by your fire—I cannot call for
A ride home—I only want to drink more
Liquor and wait for you—
Though you are married and taking up all of the
Sunshine—
Pieces of enlightenment through the blindness
That surrounds you,
And another crippled airplane touching down-
I swore I saw you diving with the swans
As winter returned.
Now you make a throne beneath the ice
That tries to make a romance with my tomb.