In Another Yard Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Armpits of matchsticks in the memories of
Her kitchen-
Alligators as big as bears in her backyard woods
Where I used to play
Until my very own father was out of monies,
And done making noises
And I had a house of my own that the clouds whispered
Down to and the traffic matriculated by-
That this was mine too, with a kind of yard and a
Telephone,
And a lover waiting for me in another yard while
My mother looked again across the sea.