The Merry-Go-Rounds Of A Holiday Poem by Robert Rorabeck
The Merry-Go-Rounds Of A Holiday
Pretty as a nebula of an eye blinded by
A cane pole,
As mine almost was—while all of the skeletons
Got up to dance,
Clapping hands in one hellish hullabaloo:
What parks they could memorize—
What places they were going—over spilling roe
Without any sea
Or visiting ships—her eyes the scarless spheres
Remembering the merry-go-rounds
Of a holiday we were never meant to have.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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6/9/2026 6:46:25 PM # 1.0.0
