Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,024 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Victory Of Hope - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My body is stages paling into loneliness:
I lost my soul somewhere back in the middle of high school
Like the greedy armor of a cicada stuck by its barbs to the neck
Of a cypress;
And what I am now is the midget in his Ides of March climbing
Down from a tree of gold,
Spooking the king into a paraplegic, entrancing him with the
Rattlesnakes,
Muting the pet dogs on their chains, as I come down for you
Like dewdrops cried in the Andes: and this is a sport to a place
We have never been, but yearn for repeatedly in the esotericism of
Bodies lost homes:
I remove myself in layers as snakes shed their skin like tears,
And I enjoy evaporating for you,
Dreaming obsessively of the venal inflictions I can give to the
Orchards that bloom, remembering that I once
Questioned my parents on the indelibility of marriage, while we
Drove past the hospitals and the insouciant sports of the indigenous
Reptiles, while I had you on my mind all the way,
Hoping to experience your respiring carnivals while I still had
Hope of victory.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 11, 2010



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