The Resonance Of My Children Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Laughter harkens finely from a distance,
Hear the resonance of my children as their mother bathes them-

I drink from a three dollar wine bottle,
Christening the only writing I've done since Christmas:
Sipping off the love of Saints and other superstitions I try
Hard not to believe in:

But here it is,
Another day going down, and bodies melting superflously
Into beds like wilting flowers into gardens-
Their airconditions humming like moths trying to
Write love letters to their abandoning fairies:

The absentminded wishes of anywhere:
The night takes off her clothing in the school yard
And dances around, flirting with abandoned bicycles:

Who look up into the bilious sky where airplanes go
Leaping forever like fawns
Across their ethereal fountains:
And I think they have no reason to ever touch down into
Our lives again.