Robert Rorabeck Poems

The foyer of my house has a virgin too:
She is right there, and to her I give my blessings to you,
Alma:
And I light my candles like a witch in a cartoon,
...

If you come to me tomorrow- Alma,
And we make love hidden by the ixora, in a house
That is as old as my grandfather,
But which can still get up and dance, then I will be as happy
...

Sitting on my laurels and drinking the last of my
Guatemalan rum,
I am yet always hiking further and further up for you, Alma:
I have almost masturbated atop the pearly summit of
...

The poems tread softly through the snow,
Following and kissing after the soft necks of their brothers:
It is all that they know to do,
Because they know that they are not entirely any species of
...

The bodies burn time and time again:
All of the ancestors getting up and congratulating themselves
Until they become the unresolved constellations in the sky
Burning over the swimming pools
...

Alma, I am listening to you right now,
While I am wishing that I had a bicycle to ride toward your
Clever boudoirs;
And while I think of you I also praise all of your immaculate
...

This might as well be the nursery rhymes of your children:
Alma,
We have already made love, and I am a good man-
I am already below my station, while you are kissing the
...

The night is sailing so close and so far away,
Like religious candles flickering, like the caesuras of waves,
And I am almost done,
While the youngest of lovers park their cars and kiss and swap
...

Twilight drinks itself to sleep and I am
Here doing the same and yawning trying to picture the
Dusky clouds over the
Retiring golf courses and the teenage cemeteries,
...

You’ve combed your hair again and I am drinking wine
I bought tonight after I left you at that party in wounded
And high weeded guts of
West Palm Beach: the grapes are from the grandes bodegas
...