Letting The Enemy In Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of the families such as these vultures,
Picking and eating the apples of over ripe flesh:
Fallen down from the three fold tree
Of kidnappers;
And it is raining, removing the road there and
Rediscovering the seashells:
Maybe three children in the miniscule yard making
A pact of some kind,
And then running away: running away or being
Kidnapped, but either way
Never coming back again:
Taken like metamorphosis back into the sky,
Like raindrops that I could have sworn were never shed,
Until all of the moats just evaporate
And the tearless mothers open the floodless gates
With open breasts and opened arms
Letting the enemy in.