The Grandest Stories Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Grandest Stories



I don’t want to rest anymore while
You sleep;
I know the gods in their forms
Gifting me with amnesia, trying
To steal my sisters away
In the Phoenix
Desert
The planes popping around
Like gifts at New
Years,
Spreading their wings like
Wishbones at the
Dinner table for giants,
Saying a word of prayer
And the going ahead and telling
The grandest stories for their
Cousins who don’t even
Believe in them.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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