The Ash Of The Sugar Cane Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Moon and Indians above the pylons
Of a coral castle at right angles and all the purple
Angels disappearing into the obscure darkness with
Their badges

When they go on fieldtrips and when they wait for
A long time outside of the lavatories by the fields
Of wildflowers and some helpless truant is falling
A long ways down from them,

Filling his mouth with scars and fire ants
As red as the envious jewelry of her eyes- there she
Hangs out amidst the paper trees burying time capsules
And talking to terrapin who are infatuated with
Butterflies who have gone up to dress in the ash of
The sugar cane burning from the other side of the canal.