When last I saw her, her eyes were exhausted acrobats
by Robert Rorabeck
Who fell to my shoulder and then plummeted away.
Like off the cliff, they went.
She did not scream. She went quietly and free-
I think she meant the fall, for her body looked as if it’d been
practicing - I think she’d had enough.
As she went, she went down and her head turned away
Toward the distant drop- I mean, she did not look back.
She was like that- She was real gone! And all I could do was
See her go, falling forever through the sea that way.
She created my new exhaustion as the city’s lights died
Where the old cars circled me as if for an execution.-
They were so hungry and the lights were out so
No one could see.
The pallid streets roamed my flesh beyond which my
Legs walked to the bone and walked on, because I was
Broken. I could not stop walking. I had a few drinks,
But they did not get rid of her salt or her sting, and she was
That photo in my eyes made by the sun. The realness of the
Image in bed with another man and free, free, free-
Like the type of thing you see after staring at the sun too long,
Something that doesn’t go away. She’s still there in another
Bedroom across the world.