Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,238 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Into The Wishingwell Of The Armpits - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Swearing by these mountains that they know their
Paths—as mothers and mothers
Come home tumbling upon mountain bikes—
And the sky is a necklace of pearls above the mine
Eventually I will have to come down from my spying and
Have dinner with you—but for now it is
Taking forever—and my joints hurt and are in need
Of a good oiling—
And every time I look at you, I see that you are looking
Away, and collecting your head into the wishing well
Of the armpits of another god-d@mned
Good man.

Comments about Into The Wishingwell Of The Armpits by Robert Rorabeck

  • (8/29/2012 4:46:00 AM)

    Like this, powerful images, a strong central metaphor, good write. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 28, 2012

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