Even Though Wounded Poem by Robert Rorabeck

There was nothing under the airplane,
But the sun:
The sun was female and seemed to be
In a wave of sky-
Where was she going, underneath stewardesses,
Paper airplanes trying to be
Consumed by her like kindergarteners
In midday baptisms-
There was nothing extraordinary about her
Otherwise:
She floated there in a steady curse, while
The spiders buried their mothers
And we said the pledge of allegiance
While standing, even though wounded,
In the classrooms where we didn’t belong.