Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,893 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Where To Find Her Next Meal - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Some casualties are stolen by the wind:
That is when the busses pick up, and the baseball players
Start swigging their gin,
That is when the loam in her throat starts burning the notes,
Like a weathervane across the old valley’s moat:
This is where I’ve swung for you, and stretched my fattened
Body towards your holidays;
And this is where you’ve sighed for me, as the wind brushed
The mowed sod blanketing a comely grave:
And where I failed in the repeated motions, the way a headless
Chicken starves out in the tundra before the eyes
Of a heavily sated mountain lion, blue and lucky anyways,
Purring as she knows where to find her next meal.


Comments about Where To Find Her Next Meal by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 25, 2010



[Report Error]