The Mayhem Of A Fairytale Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Imperfect as the knights hanging in the crepuscule
Of witches trees,
Shading off in the yard while she bubbles and completes
A spell,
And her folklores become evil and all the more powerful:
And then there is a good game of baseball
And some words spoken between classmates in the falling light
Of another birthday:
The quest is laid off instead for dinner, or to watch the
Celestial catastrophes that are too far away to ever
Be real for any of us;
And she swoops into the air across the harbingers of what was once
The delights of the sky above the park in the daylight,
Fornicating with wayward kites,
Making fireworks out of misallocated paper airplanes:
And in this way she never comes down,
Caboosing with airplanes, fingering the clouds, and into that chimney
Of worlds she goes,
Up and upward like a vineyard into the mayhem of a fairytale that
Never has to close.