Robert Rorabeck Poems

The last poem of the night should be hardly beautiful,
Or hardly enough;
While my mother has gone out into the mowed easements to
Talk on the phone,
...

Your daughter has all those long lashes crying away
To better parts
Where I thought I should belong- where so many boys thought
To have liked;
...

Who can I tell the joys I’ve had at night
Waiting for the quixotic bedrooms of little houses
That are as good as mine
Where strange cats come brushing whiskers through
...

My lips failed in their acting skills many years
Ago, Sharon:
When they parted, they just said nothing:
They preferred to look down like dribbling flowers while
...

If the bodies peel softly with joy, they will have us
Scouted out by morning:
They will have scoured all the baseball fields before the fog
Has lifted,
...

Capturing the Golgotha in parks too
Pretty to sleep in,
I went out to become an actor I never became:
I rolled down from the high swings
...

Rained as fat as pregnant cats who’d sated on our
Mice,
And I stood and flirted with a little Mexican girl with eyes
As dark as thunderclouds over the parts of the sea
...

Days lounging in bliss and are afraid of new shadows,
And it went down like this:
I armed wrestled with her today, and told her she was very
Beautiful:
...

Alma: you are not wounded:
You came from Guerra Mexico like a monarch butterfly
Who had forgotten what it was
Seven years ago:
...

Cars pool into Colorado,
Backing up for ice-cream and wine, you know:
Cars pool into Colorado like diamonds around her neck,
Like blushing baseball players in an organized
...