His Calmest Light Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The way the sun shone all over this
Pretty planet,
And saw all of us, insouciantly spontaneous
Grew us like garnish on a liquid plate,
Run his naked fingers of roman legionaries
Through your pretty hair,
And saw and swore that you were who he
Wanted,
And took you even further away from me,
Up to the slopes of high banishment,
The pretty psalms who echo like
Spanish tears, and the cheerleaders who are
Dying,
And now you are in his pretty chamber imbibing
Her never mindful thoughts,
And he shines on you his calmest light,
And you awaken and are lost.