Belonged Poem by Robert Rorabeck
Belonged
I’ve cried upon the rusting shoulder-blades
Of the airplanes that
Are not here—
Going back and forth—
All a glow in the statutory hallucinations
Of a bivouacked—soldiered all together
Of a dream
Of a murder—
Words whom are rolling off an inebriated tongue—
A million miles and
On top of mountains—
Going, or trying to go,
Like rose bushes where they should have
Belonged-
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8/1/2026 1:36:56 PM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
