The Failing Lights Of Day Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Failing Lights Of Day



Insociantly, she broke up with me,
And made love in her memory to him in a bedroom
Just beneath the stars:
I got drunk and tried to eat cue balls,
Pissed in the mall’s wishing well, or tried to down
Several fifths of vodka the stewardess
Used to lubricate on long flights: She moved on in her plastic
Catholicism, in her alluring sways, pantiless
In a plaid school girl uniform, a garter full of folded
Dollar bills.
Still drowning in the easiness of the dismissal,
New scars grow like coattails on cheeks, not easily
Dismissed. And well-developed housewives stare alongside
My avenues not quite adequately equipped with the souls
Which can meet my gaze; and it is funny to think upon
The new séances which may be dancing down those
Pubescent halls, the catcalls and the foreplays,
And the new fairytales she’ll use to play with me.
She dresses down and drops into the sea, and lets her curves
Combine with those of those coital waves, the caesuras
Of navels and the rippling crests of areoled tits:
Entirely naked, she swims like a full mirror beneath under
That sun, entreating and daring me to enter her before the failing
Lights of day.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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