The Lovers Of Purple Airplanes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh womb, the color of
Purple coins,
Lying breathlessly in a husbandless
Carport—
How the rainstorms sound all
Around you,
The slight inflections of a town
On the verge of metamorphosis—
A beautiful dungeon in
Your heart,
While your eyes are in love
With the echinopsis—
The katydid strum their diseases
And then disrobe themselves of
Their old knights,
As the bottle rockets forlornly
Strive skyward,
Wanting to be the lovers of
Airplanes.