Where I Guess The Airplanes Fly Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Roosters crowing in the fireworks
Produce bright sunshine
That isn’t anywhere, but flowing over
The yard-
Vermillion possibility that has left
This house
And is floating over it, spying in the
Nebulous in its arc
Over slash pines and blue gills
Clairvoyant as it does
Over birthdays in the park where
Girls I don’t know curl in the sand dunes
And kiss the blisters of abandoned
Pornographies- there they are,
Burying themselves before school,
Getting thorns in their paws.
The coral snakes, wishing to be up and
Down their brown avenues
Like their mothers’ jewelry being passed
Down from beneath the ballrooms
Where I guess the airplanes fly.