The Homeless Trees Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Peeling- peeling the rind of an orange
In the eyesight of a turtle stretched out under a buss
Underneath a mountain where the sky is
Falling- I told her wouldn’t it be okay
If there were windmills
Against our armpits at the rest stop, but I did not
Wait for her: her hair was blonde and falling
Through the living room,
But it was not right to second guess her,
Even if she would not help to decorate the
Christmas tree: my college days were gone-
All of the firemen had escaped holding up their
Ladders to the trees- and I could not figure out
The positions of all of the graveyards underneath
The stars: they were a new heavens anyways:
They’d just moved in and were still figuring
Out their way around-
As the motionless snakes slept underneath the dresses
Of the homeless trees.