In The Movements Of A Schoolyard Poem by Robert Rorabeck

At first the cathedrals stuck up in the
High water marks of the trees
Where we used to skip school and tried at looking in
The most absurd of ways which we
Hoped would make us beautiful,
As I alone thought of the fallen angels licking their wounds
At the water fountain,
Trying to drink in their time between the classes in the movements
Of a schoolyard that said would enrich through the summers,
But in which they were sure, kindred hearts, that they
Should never belong.