Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,025 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

With Hips Of Tattoos - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Turning up for brail like children without any sense,
Wimpled in pieces of dismissive alphabet reaching for the
Sun:
You know that is just how your bodies are, like spindles of
Golden castles on the run:
Cresting atop of my pistols, and pointing all of your guns,
The eurhythmics of cheetahs with hips of tattoos,
And your eyes far away atop of your nubile pedestal:
This is how I think of you after you have conquered,
And won over me by what you have done.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010



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