Glittering Rum

The night is warm and apoplectic and I am drunk.
I should be out searching for her: she is so close, and
In so many ways, and faces like Janus, like the moons
Or rings of Jupiter: The night spreads diademed by neighborhoods:
Where do they all go, after the last buck is spent and they
Are done calling in their séances; but I am still cartographed
By scars, scars, and sad scars, like inebriate depression,
The constellations of car crashes: Oh I love her, and I
Still do, and have seen her through so many narrow ways and
Dreamy fountains, alone and wandering against the Rocky
Mountains in Colorado, driving up to get my meal: her bosom
Fine and pale, her eyes aquamarine and just as unjustifiable:
I should have loved her and bared her children, if I were a better
Man, or a sports broadcaster: I would have done her by now,
But I only know so many words, frugal, debased: She is a harlequin
Up against the stage of time. No one will remember her name
Or face, but they loved her while she was out and amongst them
And shopping. She didn’t save a nickel, but it didn’t seem to matter
At the time; and I loved her, while she was about, and didn’t
Think of me at all.

by Robert Rorabeck

Comments (6)

This is a wonderful baroque poem in which the writer allows himself to be romantically enthralled is a gift from heaven. Thank you so dearly Mister Marvell
He makes the Figs our mouths to meet; And throws the Melons at our feet. But Apples plants of such a price, No Tree could ever bear them twice. Great imagery. Thanks for sharing and being awarded POET OF THE DAY.
Thus sung they, in the English boat, An holy and a chearful Note, And all the way, to guide their Chime, With falling Oars they kept the time. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -maybe that is what mankind should do, row together with a goal in mind
A fantastic narrative with an equally fantastic imagery.
Such a price! Thanks for sharing.
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