The Gymnastics Of Sunshine - Poem by Robert Rorabeck
We will have new candles brought to us—and our fathers
Will buy us new cars amidst our birthdays:
Even if she will never sing another song for us—but she will arise
And wake up her children
And kiss her husband and continue across the railroad tracks:
And other dimensions of so many orchards—all of the while
The carolers have been singing to us
As if it would snow—
As the dragons get up to saw their lumber—
The satanic fuselage beneath the gymnastics of sunshine—
Or other pretty ways of carrying on: one armed—
Inebriate—bouquets of ways to remind us that she is not mine.
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