When They Are Lucky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

When They Are Lucky



Rising to the occasion,
To the cobwebs of her family;
Nothing about her is old,
Or kept away too long:
In the opal ladders of her Siamese
Estuaries,
Her pillbox of a womb has
Birthed two children,
Bilingual,
Straight out of the old habitats
Of cliff dwellers and
Conquistadors:
She knows how to use the
Government,
But not how to swim,
So I carry her out into the
Breaking brim, and Alma’s
Little brown body braces against
My stalwart show,
Like a fox leaping into
An Eskimo,
An anarchistic fable
Of our time of the week
When butterflies get the day off,
When they are lucky.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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