The Oldest Of His Species Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In this nostalgic
Penumbra
I eat my lunch
Like a sad
Fish
Wondering
Why everything moves
Away
From high school,
Forgetting that
Such places were
Not always
So beautiful
Or that the devil
That walked
In your
Legs
Still echoes in
The sad and
Warm
Places
My mind yet
Swims
Looking back
Like one of
The oldest of
His species
Yet still
Alive
And you are
There remaining
In the lake
Of my
Breast,
An
Orchid
Obscured by
Yesterday’s
Tears
That somehow
Remains alive,
Coursing like
Minnows through me,
Schooling in
My throat,
Giving dark vows
Like the inner shadows
Of bells that never ring
Nor come true for
The oldest of his
Species.