Back Into The Sea Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Here is the washing machine, turning around
With the sun going across the street-
About like a pinwheel on a journey- rum on my
Lips,
Failing into the night, like the death of songbirds
Into the mine:
Singing with their bones that their muse has gone
Back to her husband,
And they will never be up to seeing her again-
And all that is preposterous will just
Float over the earth,
Never having to touch the earth- breathing like a
Jellyfish up there,
Imperfect, while the insects make love and die
So many times within the long and beaten
Necks of the aloes-
And the housewives make their usual sacrifices in the
Carports besides the toads and rebar-
Either with the sun coming down,
Or the rain- a kidnapper patrolling the street
While the kittens inspect the rattlesnake in
The ditch;
And in the back yard, there is one perfect orange
That will emolliate before anyone will ever see,
And the pilot, while daydreaming of
The finest stewardess, will crash once again
Back into the sea.