Looking At The Stars Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Looking At The Stars



Night in its cradle just looking at the stars:
Girls in the ballrooms, like coming up for air from
The fairytales of goldfish trapped in their
Little life sized glass rooms
Pushing brooms alongside the road, while the rabbits sniff out
The excess of wild, hyperbolic kale;
And the rattlesnakes them:
Beautiful diamonds on their backs, the rustic cousins to
Satan,
Underneath the slash pines, and wreathing for Christmas:
All of the world breathing at the edge of sleep,
Calm, but discontentedly: fires in the barrels of off perfumes,
While I dream of a multi legged midnight galloping away
In her bedrooms: very fetching, and still in high school,
Calling through her necropsies to the sailors
Horse-headed in the bay: they seam to be able to float there
All day, underneath the light towers of the moon
Who are too far away to save them anyway; and they will never
Grow up knowing her love, but they will have tasted her
Leggy through the waves- and they will go back to their
Mothers preaching, preaching narcissistically of how,
Eventually, they had been saved.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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