To Unbutton Herself Poem by Robert Rorabeck
To Unbutton Herself
Painted echoes upon the side of a standing horse:
I wait to go to the flea market,
The airplanes fly away, of course- -
And I have made an instrument of my unbeautified bones'
They can wait outside forever,
Dancing like the waves, the skin of the sea'
But eventually she will have to unbutton herself and let them in,
Where all of the echoes will take herself to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 1:20:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
