To Their Guardian Angels Poem by Robert Rorabeck

You are dumb, and yellow
And stupid: your children also live in the armpits
Of a flower,
While the wolves hang out opened tongued
Waiting for the pottery wheels of school to start-
And even at her wedding,
It was brilliant and made of flowers: she has her newest
Love and they go around merrily
Attracting the tourists from their wonderful playgrounds:
Come and look at the new things they have found
Underneath the lighthouses
Who meant to speak to their guardian angels, and to
Reminisce perpetually across the physical educations of
Their equally mutual yesterdays.