Cleaved Needfully Into Weedy Tennis Courts Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Slash pines coming at every angle,
Like stiffly exploding vermilion tinsel.

My mother cut my hair today,
Out back of our new produce market,

Or I shouldn’t say,
Because you were not there:
You are not here,
And it has been so many yesterdays-

You have never seen my mother cutting my
Hair,
And yet Florida is such a beautifully wimpled
Esplanade,

And the slash pines don’t so much care if they
Grow without the thoughtfulness of your
Senses;
It is a sad park, and yet they grow so beautiful,
Twisted and bent
Like swords that would never have suited you
Cleaved need-fully into weedy tennis courts.