Believing Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All open and epitaphs to graveyards,
And now all of the dead waiting open mouthed
For the sparrows to sing,
Brightly and presumptive out from the mines,
While all of the time
I tried to love you, while even my dog or fox
Left off to panting-
And all of the sparrows curfewed while I went to
Kill your father or some other murdered,
And while all of the other bright numbers
Rubbed together and counted off to themselves;
And even though it was not even they who
Rubbed together and found new warmth in the boxcar:
And found new warmth altogether
Even though it was not that all the pretty birds sang together
In their bathing:
And even though it wasn’t so that the thieves all together
Founding what it was that they were saving:
It was that the sky was so yellow that it was
So beyond believing, even as the buses turned around,
As the trumpets echoed through the newest baths of sky
Upon whatever it was that they were believing.