The Leisure Of Housewives Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Another dime store cowboy goes home
Into the haylofts of paper
Airplanes
And paper angels- and I can see the prenatal
Smiling forming around
The rose gardens of your lips,
The way vehicles of lovers foreplay in
The driveway after each others’ children
Have become lost
Throughout the playgrounds of wolves
In their apathetic schoolyards,
And the sun spins its web, and steals the
Colors of a lion’s yawn,
Just as all of the usual allusions come
Down through the broken roofs of sky
And lie there like soldiers recovering
With the serpents in the mowed
Grasses for the leisure of housewives.