Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,893 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Grass Is Green - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Trucks burn through the forest
Where wolves sleep:
The sky is blue; the carport is green and there
Are virgins in both of those places:
They are my milky queens; and when I am taking a sabbatical,
I step outside and skip across the pools:
I hold my breath and lay a finger on the world,
While the alligators curl in their canals,
While the housewives grow poorer and far less assured;
And I am glad that I don’t have to live forever
In their sad part of the world:
That I can go leaping over their sunken shoulders, so moribund;
And I can love a girl whose name is Alma,
Who is sad that one day she will have to eat her rabbits:
Because, sleeping inside their chicken wire cages
They remind her of her two soft brothers she left together behind in
Mexico,
As she crossed the river and never looked back: Alma can never be
A housewife;
But she has two children all the same, and the sea is hers
And the grass is green and cries out softly in Alma’s name.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010



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