To Buy Her Flowers Poem by Robert Rorabeck
To Buy Her Flowers
Earth come down around her shoulders
And say to the bereaving mountains that she does
Not work at the fruit market anymore:
But she has gone up onto the shoulders of
Her husband—
And what she can see from there:
Flea markets basking in their grottos, and soft,
Unmolested ways back to Mexico:
Her eyes—oceans—
But she is entirely dependent and too far away
For me to buy her flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 5:49:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
wow, lovely poem. loved it.