The Auburn Bellies Of Your Leaping Aeroplanes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Everyday the little tricks proceed through
The languages that we know
While your breasts are melting snow,
Beginning to separate and metamorphosis,
Each special crystal in areolaed bliss;
And I hate to think that you had to drive away,
Or that you didn’t even think that you were
Leaving me like everything,
Departing with your sisters through the show,
Like perfect snow crystals and other things
That hemorrhage from the cryptic sky,
That sky of open glances
Like a crèche turned over on his whim from which
You and your sisters came pouring from;
And I wished I had ridden the bus around with you,
Instead of that once when we both went to
Disney World and you were not around,
Having transformed with your princes and moved
To the higher consequences up in the frothy planes,
The plum sweet esplanades which whisper
To the auburn bellies of your leaping aeroplanes.