Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,193 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

To Steal Your Hand - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Vagabonds of hyphenated schoolmarms
I want to fall for you and unsettle your books,
And pin your plastic barrettes askew:
I hate the fact that you think you are married,
Because you are so brash,
I just want to wet your mouth underneath the
Infinite feet of the old overpass;
Because the waves are feral and they are just
Some ways over,
And they go in packs and they fall in love
So many bodies without reason or names,
Even the sky is embarrassed for them;
And you have a car and hours you keep,
And a business number,
And sometimes reasons to weep,
But I want to take that all away from you
Make you surcease from the library of your thoughts,
Lay you down in a bed of collected forget-me-nots
And speak and smoke indescribable reason into you,
And watch you eyes turn colors from the immolation
Of the things who thought knew you,
That unreturning languages that don’t keep their
Identity underneath the unabashed snow;
To steal your hand and away we go.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 21, 2009

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