She Still Does All That She Can Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Right now horses sleep, and young men sleep,
And the armies cut by acidic fangs from the
Strange earth outside the car port,
And the cats whisper, and careless little girls have
Gone to sleep kissing the corpuscles of frogs;
Believing each on might be their
Prince, an ugly lottery of licks, but the day never
Comes- The sun just comes up,
And kicks over the old pale again, but the day
Never comes,
Though she still does all that she can.