Throughout Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As close as the nations of hummingbirds
Are to the soul of our high school—
I don't think happens to be such a sweet thing—
While the incisions are still opened:
They still seem to be miles
Away—
Astronauts orbiting the earth
Trying to kiss the sun
Marionettes on their leashes trying to
Jump and run—
And the hill is so far and wide—
And cannot even remember the nursery rhyme
That took us to this hill—
As the valley was lavished by rattlesnakes
All together or at least until up to
The footsteps of the windmill—
And then your dead mother had to pull back—
And your dead grandmother had to pull back—
And it was just you in the rain
Trying to hold the lightning—trying to keep
Base with the shadows that were disembarking
Towards the infatuations of their candle lights all
Throughout their evenings.