In The Make Believe Heavens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Even if I lose my job, I will have new sorrows
Here waiting by the spring
Pristine curling reservoirs gossiping with the water snakes
And the things who float here as slow
As girls who think their name is Mary
The sun will burn until the walls of heaven hop like
Eggs,
And the clouds around them will make a camouflage
Of something we will not even think to see for
Days and days
But you will come strutting out of your orchard
And down from your cinderblocks and kiss and bless
The earth
And think new and preemptive thoughts
Until the boys who once were your brothers are kidnapped
Across the street- and you go home, barefooted
Remembering how they left you to play in those woods
Across the cenotaphs continuing through the streams of
A nude transparency
Running in a hidden avenues beneath all the Sunday
Blue lights of Churches which you enjoyed arcing under
On the swing sets that seemed furtively to take
You away, while the moon and airplanes mimicked
You like candles dancing to and fro in the make believe heavens