The Absolute Runways Of Your Favorite Color Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the morning if your child is healed
Then I will see you:
As a brave night, I will caracole the brown kilns of
Your womb,
And whisper that our children will have a twenty five percent
Of blue eyes
If you can believe me, if you really love the flag I have
Spun from the cocoons of this loneliness:
Of course I will dance for you, and pop my guns:
And I will buy you lunch, Alma,
And dream of farmlands with you, and fields rich with
Sparkling red fruit that we are not allowed
To eat but we always do
With pits of rubies that can fit across your fingers which would
Otherwise become the venomous gazes of a serpent in his
Genius of envy;
And I will whisper into your ear of bravery, and the cool
Zoetropes of movie theatres, and the aloe beside the carports
Where we shouldn’t be allowed to move,
Except to kiss soft,
And if you have ever seen snow, and ask you to differentiate
Between the different shades of green to figure out and
Pinpoint the absolute runways of your favorite color.