Wishes You Will Not Have Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Icicles melt off her toes
She falls in love on an airplane: she is going somewhere:
And it feels alright to look up into
A church—
Stained glass still weeping over the basins
Of Colorado—
While the innocent tourists lick the ice-cream melting on their
Fingers, like svelte
Dripping from the crenulations of the antlers of some young
Stag:
Up in the bosoms of the mountains weeping
Like centipedes with breasts: so close to where the stewardesses
Leap in the never waning dreams:
They seem to have escaped the atmosphere:
Birthday candles licking underneath them:
Maybe they will leap forever,
Escaping over the wishes that you will not have.