Underneath A Lighthouse Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They were sleeping tantamount to banshees
And she didn’t care,
I suppose:
The city spilling over and combing over
Itself,
And another beauty was discovered, just
As another household was toppled- and the spring
Became the summer-
And I had to look up into the cloudy heavens:
It was a forest fire burning there
That the airplanes somehow commuted through,
While their pageantry of wishes burned
And yet I continued singing out for her,
My tongue forked, trying to touch her at both
Ends,
But neither of us disguising who we were pretending
To be underneath the commuter heavens,
While the students divided themselves into the primordial
Lunches of their churches,
And then there was just this burning- while
The leopards leapt, spottedly, and the angels burned,
Searching for another heavens that could soon
Be noticed,
Underneath a lighthouse that always burned.