Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,238 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Feral Languages Of Her Upright Soul - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I killed a praying mantis and lost
My keys,
So no one likes me now, but the sky
Is so beautiful
Resonating like a wine glass, saying her
And the airplanes are the little prizes
Won or stolen from fairs,
Breathing softly like cats or goldfish,
Streaking the sky with the feral
Languages of her upright soul.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 6, 2009

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