Otherwise Forgotten Schoolyards Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The band played in Loxahatchee Groves,
And I watched you singing as candles
Floated off into the sky,
All those tragic little numbers above the sweet
Terrapin,
Little mothers going home too,
Though I do not wonder why:
I am sorry that I only have these words to
Put you in, to send you off like a feather torn
From the chief’s cerulean headdress now floating in
The sky,
All the lesser feathers now of lesser chiefs
Catching the coattails of airplanes: All the days lost
Grieving, unbuttoning the top two layers of
Your blouse or birthday cake with hungry mouths to feed,
The constant pattering of little feet across the linoleum
Floating as if in a fever dream above the
Everglades;
And I just always wanted what was right for you;
And I just wished to say goodnight, because I can still
Hear you singing in a childhood chorus:
You are the only thing in it I could even remember to wish
To hear; and it is a painful song, and it echoes
Across otherwise forgotten schoolyards.