The Midnight Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Fastening to the heirlooms it attends,
Going out into the streets after the make-believe
Fireworks and climbing up into the family tree:
What is this to happen here,
Beneath the astral bellies of all the airplanes sinking in,
And the rinds that smoke up from the wimples
There- the frogs singing in the drainage,
Encouraged from their metamorphosis as tadpoles,
That they will be princes by and by:
And paper ghosts kissing me at the elbows,
And paper gods celebrating at the table of stolen
Light the moon holds and by it entertaining the midnight sky.