Like A Butcher's Flower Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Like A Butcher's Flower



Somewhere beautiful overspills with airplanes:
Her hair is made up for date night,
And cottage cheese is pressed to her lips like wet baby’s breath:
And the hours of her youth are vibrant, loving not a soul,
But as clear as a water fountain reserved for privileged
Men:
And she can step out into a world and make it her high school:
The song birds and mariposas will nest in her hair and try to
Gather pollen off of her, as the avenues continue by her feet
Where the grass is perfect and almost blue and rather crocodilian:
Her wrist that sways before the parked buses seems to swim
Against the savage tongues of echinopsis and she can remain
There all day long, her worshippers resonating off of her
Like waitresses in restaurants all a wreck running up and down
With all those legs, making dollars to pay the bills is easy:
Like a butcher’s flower she kissed my neck.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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