Her Glens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Across the grass the pigeons spill
Up and down and down
Some still—
Along her legs,
Around her glens—
These pretty girls and some pretty
Friends—
I know some words—
I have some scars,
And the angels want to see—
I have some boys who play some
Games as they follow me—
Up to some stars
And some heavens,
Around the seas and multiplications—
And then this world,
This place of joy that is right here—
Another night echoes
Calling to herself from
Her cul-de-sacs—
The joys that cannot be present—
The day awakens upon the graveyards—
As upon the hearts that are already gone—
Up again and yawning,
Spreading her wings and opening her
Presents upon a heavens already done
With its dawnings-
And the lions yawn, as if I've kissed
Your mouth a thousand times-
Through the echoes of the witches' minds—
And in the trailer parks all fast
Asleep—
I end the day as the little girls weep—
In the morning,
The last shine of the moon—
She puts on new shoes and she goes to school—
And I take pride in all of the absences I've
Had—and your mother's apple pie—
Even though it was store bought—
Wasn't have bad- yes,
It wasn't half bad.