Unsolvable Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If the phone is ringing:
It is a baby crying,
Then it is a banshee bleating:
Something competing in the
Household’s estuary, mother.
Oh, Lord! How I wish to hold you,
But you are only a voice who never speaks.
Men love you.
Your father let you in that car.
Where you drive around in a wildlife
Preserve of your Christian name,
And there is all god in you
In the bright grasses feeding.
And beautiful animals:
The otters in blue glass eat clams,
The house of delicate mammals.
Recorded, you do miracles,
You get the president elected,
Perpetuate the words like the strata of reefs
Hold out for another day
The nude sketches, the shore
Extends refusing to inhale,
When you do not come to the rich community.
Your absence is playfulness of slaughter,
The prism’s ablution in the canal,
The sink of autumn’s corneas
The bridge’s structural collapse,
Sounds like something rings
In the distant living rooms,
Though you never speak to me,
The transient numbers,
Killings feeding the unsolvable flies.