Her Sweet And Auburn Teams Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Cooling children cooling on the sills of
Church:
The perfectly scraped pews where Satan is
Extinguished,
The hymns of America, and I know
There is a garden with a flaming sword and a high school
Not so far away
Where pretty girls still practice their redeeming sports
To this day;
And the city around that perfected jewel sparks just
Like the sea;
And I can see her turning in her new car,
Turning and turning:
Her nose is pierced and her eyes are perfect, like Siamese sailors
Always in perfect orbit on the habitual seas and
In no need of home or shelter,
She is so brave, she is always combing;
She is the chaste pornography of this new century:
She is a perfectly bosomed astronaut enjoy the choicest orbit
Low in the gravity of the swings,
And her eyes are closed as the leaves are falling:
They are brushing her like so many caresses of all the boys
Who wish to join her sweet and auburn teams.