Of Everything That She Wishes For Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Words in a beautiful book fall naked
Like clothes around open shoulder blades,
Or the propellers of airplanes; and oh how mouths come
To take a look,
And even the projectionists come down, as the tiny kittens some
How nimble through the glossy ivy and hurricanes
To find their mother all strung out in the silken sack of the
Weathervanes;
And I have been down to the belly of the Grand Canyon three times;
And the last time I almost lost my father,
But looking up this morning there were so many new advertisements
As high as the clouds,
And the sunlight was speaking while Alma yawned awake and brown
In the corner of her little house;
And all of her world was vibrant: it was a jewel who moves and
Spoke and combed its emerald hair;
And Alma was born in May, and her birthday cake is still on my lips,
Though I am uncertain of everything that she wishes for.