Like A Ship That Needs Mending Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Pleasantly, your fingers run down the street
Like a barrette in your hair 'laying it down
Over the shoulders of
Your brown midway, doing away with the classroom'
Perfectly contented that your children
Will never graduate high school'
Or the sad roses waiting at your doorstep have
Disappeared along with my drunken footsteps
Upon your rooftop 'or that I've made the
Rooster hold its tongue until it has forgotten
How its instinctual crow'so the daylight breaks silently'
Milky, smoldering, waterfall
Cascades like tumbles of fire over grim amusements'
And you lean into him, like a ship that needs mending
Caressing the dragon that destroyed it.