Empty As A Loveless Heart Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Empty As A Loveless Heart



Dysfunctional as the fireworks burst over the
Roadways of old epiphany,
The angels in lawn chairs painting their toes, their
Glowing hair like weathervanes taking account
As the pussycats sleep
With the rattlesnakes whose wings and voices are
Gone
In the theatre whose roof is as sharp as a house,
Underneath the Pleiades where the cars drive hopelessly,
And out into the be speckled yards where
Alma wears her miniskirts but not much else:
She herself is a star, and I am wounded in her brilliancy:
I am just a little boy lying low in gray headed make-believe:
I can rob bicycles, but there is nothing much else
I am good for,
While the moon grabs the brown marionettes and drags
Them across the glossy dews;
And the simulacrum up in its lofty room keeps on repeating
Its two or three things of thoughtless merit
To its woebegone room as beautiful and empty as a loveless
Heart.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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