Over The Fluted Bones Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I started out as a child in a sports utility vehicle,
Going up the Pacific neck of America with my young parents
And my two miniscule sisters:
I play with Barbie in a plastic hamper: My father called me a
Cripple,
And when we got to Alaska we flew over glaciers and
Got Amnesia over the deep tundra where the mosquitoes siphoned
Our flesh like vampires;
And the grizzly bears arose like reckless surgeons:
The sky was just a palate losing itself at both ends, reflecting the
Knives of my father’s wishes;
And we walked through the stench of overgrowth, we heard him
Growling for another plate of our innocent limbs,
So pale with so little meat over the fluted bones.