Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,238 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

To Their Impressive Work - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Holding onto my skull through the days of
Unsure fire- Racehorses tracking the sky with muddied
I can hear their echoes all after noon, through the firedrills
In the halls- or afterwards,
Anyways, when all of it has emptied, and I am
Back at home, masturbating,
Sure that no old girlfriends are coming over.
I cut angels out of paper and send them up to the ceiling
Fans to dance-
I wait for mother and father to bring me fried chicken-
I read cheap books
Of cheap romance- and then the cinders fall from the sky
Once again in such kill joy;
It kills the toys in the park, and all of the children go
Home gloomy and stupefied,
But I watch them come the following morning returning
Accordingly to their impressive work.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 8, 2011

Poem Edited: Monday, May 9, 2011

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