New Turns In The Light Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They'll make their new turns in the light
Of the bric-a-brac until our hegemonies
Have new households,
And I won't have to keep buying dime sized memories
Of you,
Laughing as a consequence
Of the after-course of consent—
Soon, so soon—the storm will have moved away,
And they, our cousins and our ancestors,
Will be picking up the pieces—
But they will be counted together within the
Time of shells—
While they thought to be making friends,
We will let our dinners cloud over—
And the hills will mystify the airplanes—
I will drink whatever I can
until the angels come down pledging their
Allegiances to the flags of whenever
For awhile, there will be a heavenly light
Basking in the skeletons,
And then no one will figure out how to survive,
One way or another,
While the princesses are sleeping and counting
Their monies—
The winds of jet planes will come in and
Tell them of their birthdays
And that will put an end to the brightest
tears that I suppose they ever saw.