Robert Rorabeck Poems

It is hot inside this truck,
Like a body inside a soul
When it shouldn’t
Be there,
...

Her husband has the Hebrew alphabet on his
Knuckles;
At least some of it.
She sat next to me on the shoe polished table
...

Murdered and drowned eyes
Queue up to me in my sleep
In the cold dark waters that flow
Underground and connect us all
...

Don't you have time
to enjoy the rays of
the sun?
Grazing the decapitated
...

Night in gabardine
Stuck his fist in
The prom queen.
Until Chanticleer
...

Her mind flutters there in those
Secret rafters just above her eyes—
The roof leaks when she cries,
But seldom does, for her man is
...

First off,
I can’t sing, even though
I want to be beautiful for Jesus—
I want to praise him—
...

What can I do for you,
Beautiful snag?
The still virginal tatters of
A promised gown
...

The sun began the
Hungover suicide of dusk
First brushing the Keys’ dying ivory,
Then a lure cast west of Hawaii,
...

The dead already walk the
Earth
And strangely breathe the
Tricks of the segmented Atmosphere.
...