Your Heavens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The telltale signs I don’t believe in:
I am missing the rest areas, and my dogs- but the pain is
Gone with the seasons of glasses,
But Alma is also gone, which seems to be the aphorisms
Of these days’ particular colloquialisms;
And it really feels strange being in the direct gaze
Of her eyes,
While my parents are pillaging in Arizona, searching
For movies;
And the stars come out too in particular constellations:
And you are one of these, estrella,
As you made my wishes as I made love to you,
Looking up and down into the various positions in which
I placed your heavens.