Where She Becomes Quite Undone Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As sure as there are contrivances in the moon,
There is this,
Or the confusion of the animals in the park all during school,
When the sun becomes paradoxically estranged,
And all over our mouths it slips its hopes into the packages
Of our wounds,
Just as I told Alma today that I would give her all of my blood,
So she doesn’t have to pay for anything
When her children assume the world, and their eyes remember
The fronteras of the sad ballrooms.
And how they past away from all of Mexico, just so that
Their parents could assume their dusty jobs
To tackle each other again at night in their little rooms,
Where she forgets all about me, where she becomes quite
Undone.