Over The Doorsteps Of My Forsaken Hearthstone Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am getting tired of worrying about those shadows,
Like the wearisome estuaries of speckled trout beneath
The eyes:
When, shouldn’t they be moving on, since the
Rest of the forest is changed and calling out beautiful
Numbers through the slate-cliff’s auctions;
And the cars are purring like mountain lions,
And a new king in a red velvet tuxedo is galloping through
The lower glades, picking all the wildflowers,
Clapping his hands together,
Filling up his steam pressed pockets with little throats-
He knows the right rock and roll to change the aspens,
To make her pale and naked; and I guess it his thing,
And already the new mothers are feeding their children along
The conferred rows- Open eyed and open lipped,
Stepping on my head and gills; I struggle like a rare
Lichen beneath them, taking my part in the forest where
It is harder to breath, waiting for them, revealing pure
Veins upturned from the secret corridors beneath their
Swaying sororities-
But it doesn’t do any good, for they are now all passing,
Giving not a thought to my unrefined pistilation of riches,
Going down to him, checking their mailboxes with flags raised,
Checking their refrigerators, and cleaning their houses as they
Go, until the moon is out and perfect and tracking
Showing which way the ambidextrous werewolves must hunt,
Hungrily leaping, going this way and that from each garage and
Den,
Floating down across the rented moats cast from cheap crystal
Chandeliers chimeless and overhead in their well-lit foyers,
finding out where they are waiting unwrapped with the svelte stag
Pretending to be in love;
And though it is mourn some, I have no one else to root for,
For the king is only one man, spilling over so many red carnations,
Making the entire prom’s heart beat with steady ululations,
That I should not be contained, and my sickness burns like heart fire,
Though it has only aroused for a short while to see what unfortunate
Justice it might find calling to him forlorn and suddenly
Well-attended by a brighter metamorphosis,
A torn chrysalis that shall never again re-emerge by moonlight
Rippling over the doorsteps of my forsaken hearthstone.