The Vanquished Daylight Of What Man Had To Say Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Hills bathing in the blue street lights that the students
Carry home to, uncradling books and classroom covetries-
And from their thimble like studios they look
Out at Lesbos blowing out her candles of the girls who might have
Been from their very same high school:
They too were up to no good, but making a recipe of naked gold
Down two stories in the communal pool:
Like wood that had learned to strike fires where the otters live,
And the cars were turned off, so the billboards were selling their
Thunderbrush to the very night:
Helicopters and airplanes taxied, stewardesses stripped of their
Metamorphosis- and the essence of life floating there, for a moment
Legless, serpentine, but making love in a good way to
Her sisters while the night leaned nearer in its bachelorhood-
And the forces took over, expressing themselves indefinitely to the
Then vanquished daylight of what man had to say.