Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,238 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Or The Mail Man - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Builders for these castles get their hands wet
And then sculpt the necks of parapets and heron:
They burn around the shoulders
Growing freckles like periwinkles as they step
Over the jelly-fish—
Their mother leaving them to be watched over by
The sea so she could go
Shopping with another man or the mail man—
In its innuendo the sun will burn,
The cloud with disappear—and the birds will turn.

Comments about Or The Mail Man by Robert Rorabeck

  • (4/15/2012 1:58:00 AM)

    Why do you always insult your mothers? Do you think that they always do this for their own selfish desire? She may want to feed you who is being watched by the sea. Bret! I started reading the South American history again - but through the different angle. Thank you for sharing the truth... (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 14, 2012

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