The Bodiless Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now the tomboys are playing with their
Over burdened kittens in the precipices of caustic
Traffic,
And what airplanes we have made, we have sent
Them away:
Spilling with joy across the canal, to land and dampen
Before the lips of tadpoles:
What will they ever know of girls,
Or fireworks who themselves die on holidays:
The world, like unmarked letters bottled to the busied
Lips of the sea, returns to the sender in time;
And everyone in their loneliness looks up across
The kingly tombs of ant mounds and landfills,
At the stark naked beauty in a blue flag of
Hopeful surrender across the bodiless sky.