Your Because Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The nights I have loved in high school when I was
A wolverine, I am still resonating out from:
I am a still born in a glass masons shop, being reintroduced
To the forge as punishment for my plagiarism and pornographies;
And the only conquistadors I have ever known where
Ants stinging my palm like toy soldiers,
The only combatants I have ever loved; and what about your
Love, Sharon:
Sharon, all washed up like torn and pleading paper dolls on the
Beaches of Normandy: Defeated, this is the new world,
With the sky coming up like the make believe filigree above your
Dollhouse, Sharon;
And I sing to you because you are the only muse who I haven’t
Afforded the change to betray me:
And I’ve saved enough money to buy a house outright or to
Climb Mountain Everest under the moonlight; but that really isn’t
Enough to get you to believe in me;
And Sharon, Sharon: The earth is moving beneath us, and I have
Finished off most of a bottle but I am note a fine lady, Sharon:
And tonight is your night, added to your like galleons to your conquest:
Tonight is your night, and for you I am doing my best:
I wish I was the tin-man for you: I wish I was going down to vacuum
Your caesuras: I wish I had the confidents you had toward this
Life, Sharon:
I wish I obeyed your natural laws, and that I was a butterfly whose
Final declaration was upon the tarmac of your softly crenulated
Bosom, Sharon; because that is the only thing anymore that
Ever draws me to, Sharon:
And I wish I was a beautiful man for you, Sharon:
I wish that I was your because.