While Your Birth Mother Is Away Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The wind blew to me all today:
Blew and blew like a mother of sweet ferality:
She swam and swum and couched over me,
While my birth mother was at work:
I sat alone nursing at scars, thinking of a girl who
Cannot love me,
Because I cannot love, and the places that are lost
To me,
A god I cannot pray to, because I cannot;
I went outside once after the rain, giving up on so
Many of the darknesses that would
Have set me free:
There is a stack of cinderblocks and weeds next to
The canal;
And it will be there tomorrow, and the wind will
Blow like a mother who cannot be caught or made
To understand:
She will blow out all of your wishes while your
Birth mother is away;
And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.