Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,848 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Skirts Of Stewardesses - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Light falling through a keyhole as a voice
That echoes of the airplanes it has passed—
Under the skirts of stewardesses that
I imagine smell like roses—
Falling down through the highest bivouacs—
And across where the boy scouts have fallen to
Their deaths:
Corpses in the green crops where the elk
Have shed their antlers—
Pick them up and it is like the sound of
Katydids brushing against the bare naked mountains,
Or another ululation for the plagiarists—
Giving up all of their disingenuous gifts as if that
Was all there was to give.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Poem Edited: Wednesday, April 18, 2012


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