Treasure Island

Robert Rorabeck

(04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Such A Quietly Incandescent Bloom


They say that horses running are so beautiful,
The way they get stopped up in the haunted Appalachians like
Liquors corked into bottles,
Like pretty girls walking together to home after school,
Cocking their heads and listening to the
Lions roar and to airplanes:
They have sweet slumber parties where they make their beds out
On the floor,
Underneath the airplanes they listen to the lions roar:
The sky seems to sail above them like an everlasting heirloom,
Rising just like the promises of sweet college all the way up above them,
Like highways with so much room,
With the pilots in the cathedrals and their ever burnished lofts:
The boys who talk to one another and who run their fingers through
The skies
So soft; and I dream of Alma while the sun makes love in the sky:
Her young brown body conducting through a room pulls everything
Indescribably nearer to her:
Such a quietly incandescent bloom.

Submitted: Sunday, May 16, 2010

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