From The Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the glove box of my day
Hot ashes and cigarette cherries- Other mothers
Whose other girls go by the name
Of Mary’s- and they sit in the blue Cadillac’s
Like shrines in the carport:
They sit in their sashes, and make eyes across
The canal:
They are waiting for any man to find them,
To teach them and show them how.
While their pornography is in a daydream, or with
A pill bug in a pill box- the cavalry is
Returning high heeled to Appomattox-
And you know about the flowers ushering to
The gutters, picked by the lips of tortoises
As gifts for the arms of butterflies
Who are never present- who are skipping school,
And remained traveling, exhuming fairytales
From the sky.