The Monuments Of The Vanished Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Morning awakens in the sweat of butterfly
Wings—
Lying apart like a prayer to a Ferris Wheel
The tourists of breakfasts encircle—
As I wake up a breathing gold-fish
Delighting in the merry-go-rounds that I
Have trouble spelling,
As the roads spill out and lead to school and
To other places—
Taking me to where the baseball diamonds lie
Almost hidden—
Until I remember when I was a kid,
And the parks of my truancies were an echo of
Sunshine,
And you weren't there for I only had joy in
White girls and the common circles
They gave to themselves, like cadavers of
Incest—and once a year the fair came around
And then it matriculated, taking none of their dreams
To the far and wide—
When they left, it was only for upstate—
For they could not see the monuments of the vanished
Seas—and I am sure that they will forever be lost
In the classrooms where they cannot remember me.