In The Beds Of Her Grandparents Poem by Robert Rorabeck

And then there was a chimney:
Didn’t you see her, long columnar like
Christmas in the forest:
Everything else covered by the snow,
But she was still a claret trinket the wolves
Lathered worshipful, pantheistic,
And the children practiced around her
When she was a husk when the leaves fell,
And the mountains wizened up so that
They only knew the smoke of the forests,
Or the cerulean pots lost in their bosoms
Like the girls from the long abandoned
High school- until all of her trinkets were
Scattered in the forest
And yet her pagan hopes arose to proposition
Airplanes, or they floated into other worlds
In the beds of her grandparents-
And the stars were just the sparks and burs
Shed off by a fox up there as he
Continued dancing.