Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,281 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Chelsea - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The uncouth rhymes of
consciousness live in
the harem of the noun.
In kindergarten
you learn the alphabet;
you put dirt in your mouth.
Half asleep,
pull up strands of yellow
and orange carpet,
pretending you love her,
singing the song of the south;
After school,
In a house above ground,
mother and father are not
speaking.
Language is sound.
The white hound kills
a clutch of rabbits
in the rock garden
God strolls around.
As mother dresses you in
a grey suit for Easter,
Death keeps a hole
in the ground.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, November 3, 2007

Poem Edited: Friday, April 22, 2011


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