How It Goes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How It Goes

Rating: 5.0


I’ll win because I’m not real,
And I’ve been doing this for so long,
Putting cheeks on my scars,
Scars on my cherries,
Getting married to shadows,
Shadows who love me and say so
On the swing sets of sweet afternoon
Truancies:
I’ve been doing this for so long,
Staring from the back of long haired girls
On buses,
Reading over their shoulder,
Throwing stones at bullies if they happen
To rise against me,
Saying that I love you, saying that I love
You; but I’ve been doing this for so long,
And I don’t even look like myself anymore,
And I can’t remember how I rode
Up the lightning, or swept long legged into
The zoo,
Or skipped across the lake like a stone;
And your wrist is so supple you belong in
My art gallery, you belong with the other things
Who are not real, who I have made more beautiful,
At least in part,
And I wish to captivate you and love you,
And string my fingers upon your body and make you lose
Your voice,
And I’ve been doing this for so long,
Or at least I’ve been wanting to, but I am not real,
At least not any longer, and this is how it goes.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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