The False Promises Of The Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Hey, they said you were my sister- another brown
Or green sister,
Lighting her candle on her epiphany of
Farewell birthdays- underneath the baseball diamonds
And into the skies of
Another town- while you looked so beautiful if
So far away,
And I was trying to grow my fields of
Burnished muscles-
Like statuary along
The avenues leading into Rome-
To look up and see you beneath the revelries
Of your tall and gaudy
Summits,
Dressing warm against the cold- until you come down
To me, burning your tail between
Your legs, until its luxurious price tags
Were smoldering ashes
In the fields that no longer exist, between the motel
Rooms and the highways-
As the airplanes took off forever, and you turned
Away, swearing to never look into the false promises of
The sky again.