Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,025 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Cursing The Stewardesses - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

There is a diving board in your eyes—flashing, vituperative—
And you are already in the downward motion—like
The most beautiful thing: like lips blowing upon a pinwheel—
When you remember that there are things yet
Brilliant, as you lay your head down to rest into the dreams
Of the thesis of an adolescent hypothesis—
Then let me give you this—like a corsage for prom,
As the rain echoes like mascara down the eye of a hurricane—
And we all wait in the popcorn theatre—threading our tongues
Across our lips—and we cannot possibly remember if this
All that they mention to the clouds who do not know how
To fall from the sky—as underneath them, the milkmaids open
Their amber windows, and looking up, curse the stewardesses—
For being their sisters who were stolen away.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, August 25, 2012

Poem Edited: Saturday, August 25, 2012

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