Light That Has Already Dissapeared Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Rainy monuments without summer time,
Even after the busses have unloaded their cloud-like
Children
With their open ended daydreams and scabbed
Knees like naked terrapin
Back into trailer parks- and now they’re home,
But so what:
They’re home, and in that easy shade, like
Sardines,
Wishing for pornography or fireworks: there they
Linger,
Hoping for fried chicken, and the earth of their
Parents to somehow find them-
To bathe them underneath the plastic flowers
And crèches,
Until they are somehow renewed in that soft
Though inflexible light that has already disappeared.