Treasure Island

Robert Rorabeck

(04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Into The Sea


There in the drainage, down by the clutch
Where the special whispers ululate as soft as my mother’s
First memories:
What is this, but words spoken prematurely before the rain;
And it is coming down over the first house that
I can remember
While my parents are making love
And the frog princes are in the carport laying eggs all over
The rebar and the open extension chords
Besides the blue Cadillac my mother almost drowned in:
And all of it paved and done away by
Kidnappers a long time before I came upon Alma-
And she gave me the desire which kindled
All of this pain-
Airplanes sleeping on the roofs, French-kissing weathervanes:
And Alma and her children right there, in a world
I cannot see:
I buy them gifts- but she floats away like hapless genies
Bottled into the sea.

Submitted: Thursday, December 16, 2010

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