Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,025 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Like Cloud Buried Under The Stone - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Going to bed through the brightness of clouds
Blearing like kindergarteners wearing orange at the pool:
Bodies unscarred, just plucked from their mothers
Who think that the air-conditioning is a natural occurrence:
I stole so many trinkets in kindergarten:
I stole the entirely jubilant rug: I stole it for Chelsea
Because I was a kindergarten thug:
My mug was crooked but golden: my grandmother took me to
The palm beach zoo and science museum:
Now my grandmother sleeps like stones under the clouds:
Her body ruptures, and her hair grows like clouds:
Beautiful women from India wearing their chemise- Wash naked
Next to the jaguars and the cheetahs, walk barefoot and naked
Across the wide open cemeteries:
So brown and cool, like perfect mud slipped through the fingers
Of a sculptor,
While the airplanes burn and gyre so far up above;
And looking up, I wonder if they can even remember her:
Who she was,
While the earth turns like cooling marble- not as pretty as it was,
Or prettier-
While girls from India look up with eyes from all of their lives,
And my grandmother still grows like cloud buried
Under the stone.


Comments about Like Cloud Buried Under The Stone by Robert Rorabeck

  • (4/23/2010 8:25:00 AM)


    Beautiful! 'and her hair grows like clouds...' filled with love and loss. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 23, 2010



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