Crocodiles In The Egyptian Sea Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Cold is the bone under flesh,
While drinking liqour, colder still—
Cold as the reptilian heart with a warm
Stone—
Cold as the lonely school marm,
Uncomely cousin to the librarian—
Imaginary lover to the nun—
As cold as I feel myself in this room,
Five stories up in a suburb of Shanghai
Stealing all of my mother in laws boxes of
Chinese wine,
My ninety pound wife finally asleep in the
Next room with the twenty five pound child—
All three of us sick for three weeks
Since we’ve been here,
As airplanes go missing from the sky,
And the lingering of my art is without a muse—
As I am without a job but have a home paid for
And 100,000 in the bank
Just the same, there are crocodiles in the
Egyptian sea who also do not linger in my thoughts.