Up The Heaven Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The day estranges its silhouettes and I make due—
I just got over getting over you—
Paper airplanes flying over her eyes like twin diseases—
And the night is old hoarding her bosom of
Suburban gold—
The lights go out on the Christmas tree—the trailer park
Turns out empty—and the bull-rings underneath the
Burned down mountains—
The breakfast table is vast but without a family—
My wife says sweet dreams to a room that has emptied—
And the colleges emerge like hallucinations into
The burned down heavens—
School again tomorrow—latchkeys that will turn out luckily
Into homes that cannot live without them—
School again tomorrow—borrowing the time of a graveyard
That stares up to heaven.