The Caskets Of The Graveyards Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Window draped, motionless and blind-
Don’t you live somewhere around here
Up the cataracts from Mexico,
And underneath this tricolor flag- so many
Students don’t care to give pledges to
Anymore-
But it still feels alright at midnight, outside of
The Mandingo cars
In Saint Louis, going up and down the Mississippi:
And, even from the gas stations, I can hear
The pilots yawn- as they sleep walk while
Taking off-
And it is the stewardesses job to make love to
Them and anybody else:
As the world is on the move of kaleidoscopes-
And Satan is as wounded as a rattlesnake
Who stepped out of the hydrangeas and into
The yard at in inopportune time:
Now silky diamonds cry tears of roses,
And their rattles shiver outside the windows
Where angels with clipped wings go to bed
With the men who hammer in the nails
Of the caskets of the graveyards.