From Your Hair Poem by Robert Rorabeck

From Your Hair



Airplanes make ribbons—yes, they do for
Lonely girls,
And I almost forgot that I left you here:
I do not suppose you remember me—
Semiprecious virgin with your two
Children—
Will you go into the flea market,
Or will you just sit outside with your two
Children in this hot day?
The drink comes to my lips again.
My wife and child sit it out in the other room—
Soon it will be summer,
And the airplanes will be touching down,
Untying from your hair—
And it is a blessing that you do not remember me.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
Close
Error Success