The Sky's Backyard Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Already brown and coy,
I want to take you off your
Legs again,
And make you potbellied,
To put you on a Christmas
Table
At my loneliest bachelor
Party,
While the airplanes
Spread their wings and
Fly,
Gossiping of our amusements
To the arcades
Of the four winds,
Whose divine ululations can
Be heard ushering across the
Uncanny flight paths of the
Pop rockets entangling our souls
Through the canals cut like amethyst
Into the sky’s backyard.