The Bleachers Of An Empty Stadium Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Bleachers Of An Empty Stadium



As you sit down in a nest
Some stranger built for you,
Your feathers pick out the
Sunlight
Above the bleachers of an
Empty stadium-
Your hollow bones are filled
With the premonition
That it is not safe to go
Home-
The neighborhood will surely
Flood from the migrations of
Vermillion swans-
All with the attitudes of baseball
Diamonds-
When they go away, all of the
Fireworks factories
Will be stolen-
And it will be the right time
To forget about who you love-

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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