The Wings Of Long Necked Ghosts Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I grew you into a child that had no whim,
That light refracted everything I had broken you
In,
And the customers came in like animals into
An arc
In a super swift sea of cars,
And old teachers who were always tired or
Forever sick,
And your knees conjoined like a Siamese
Lime tree
Where the herons galloped and the sea caracoled,
Where a super special secret was buried beneath
That no one neither thought nor cared to know,
But then kindergarten was over and we were
Forced to rejoin the rivers,
Fast and so-
You graduated into a harem of a god that all the
Little tales cry over,
While my sour tree whispers, whispers with the
Wings of long necked ghosts.