In Their Work Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wounded by airplanes and agape,
And then to be seeming to look away at new wounds:
The sky opens up,
Like the proverbial sea parting,
And the old lovers find untried things to say to themselves-
Their bed sparking of the utensils of heavily
Used fireworks,
As the rusty wolves wait in the timbers of the over-fallen
Woods,
Where even the tinniest of little girls have over-slipped
Their playgrounds
And are making new wounds into the dirt,
Their skirts all too open for the busiest of ants
Who are themselves too busied in their work.