Like Apple Orchards Sunken Into The Sea Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How are our soul jettisoned by this gravity—
And the classrooms of our behests swarm with infections of
Insects—
I remember slipping beside you on a swing underneath
The helicopters as the day moved like
A Ferris Wheel, and then carrying you on my shoulders
Into the sea—but I am like words on a tongue
That cannot speak—That is why I failed you,
And why I come out only at night from underneath
Overpass my father flung me under—
And wounded, cry to you of these pains, though you
Are like a fire galloping up hill and away from me—
Or like an arrowhead shot and stuck into the imperturbable
Flesh of a giant doing pinwheels in the sky—
Maybe he is the one who has stolen you, giving you
As a heart to a coliseum—where I imagine you,
Beating away—languishing and cooking for your children,
Your reflection like apple orchards sunken into the sea.