Womb Of A Coiling Succubus Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Coiling at the corners,
Womb of a coiling succubus,
And drinking tequila—
Now I have to pee,
While the remote control boats
Look so beautiful,
Floating on their own regards,
Left outside after midnight
With no adolescent fingers to
Attend to them,
And new bonfires echoing
Like the unsubtle teasings of
Amusement parks,
And now she is left to fend for herself,
And now she gives all of her unorganized
Complexes of espionage the cold shoulder—
Once dreaming of making something
Absolutely beautiful,
Even after the woebegone child wrecks
All of his trains around the Christmas tree
This holiday season—
Spoiling the reasons
Why I fell in love with him in the
First place
And for the very same reason wrote
Many things down with ever hoping for
An audience.