The Highest Of Playgrounds Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now while my shoulders were at play,
Bending towards gay children and dolls united—
While the fox and the p&ssy cat were sniffing
Towards golden coins planted in the sands,
Sure to grow into beach heads—
I thought up this breach in the séances—
Even whilst the stewardesses were attending their
Head rooms,
And the lonely bicycles had a drink and laughed
With the obnoxious alligators—
And the storm had to twiddle its thumbs,
Wondering why all of the upturning boys had
To sound like this,
With the rainbows choking the necks of
Suicides—
And the younger countries try to curl up around
The feet of the coyer and brighter boys:
There it was, this strange belief forever,
Fitted to the fingers while the heart was still beating—
Another word for the millstone
While all of the daydreams enjoyed the hearts
That were still beating,
And my parents’ old windows still looked out into
The heavenly light, just so the obnoxious ghosts
And my scarred aunt could see that all of the highest
Of playgrounds were still bleeding.