Its Sweet Surprises Poem by Robert Rorabeck

So the cavalry arrives and thanks their luck stars
In their lucky skies:
And the instruments of make-believe and regret wind down
Through the world,
Taking with them the last of the pretty bets into the
Casinos of the sea
Whom never take any pleasure in this, but go on swinging
Like the simulacrums of an indescribable religion,
While the last lines delineate steadily across the fables of
The yards,
Until the schools finally lay closed like flea markets underneath
The overpasses of the rookery of airplanes,
The gorgeous stewardesses dreaming of their men as tall as
Giants who bathe in the sea,
And sell used cars in a forest far enough away to be a fable
Told to children on the cusp of sleep
Whose mothers have them smell their favorite shampoos
So that their eyeless visions can be as sweet as the commercials of
Hummingbirds who, amidst the apiaries of an old grandmothers’
Wishes pollinate the world all through the night until
It finally breaks open its sweet surprises into another world.