Wreaths Of Flames Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Railroad tracks of bottle rockets
Running their rebel jackets, running their makebelieve
Flags:
And I have been down from the fences for a long time:
And I haven’t been to the dog track;
But picking up the bottle again sure feels good,
But doesn’t take the place of your brown skin:
Like Christmas at the movies
All alone- with the fanciful armies that they let in:
To display the knights in trees,
And the children running home through the twilight:
The surplices filled with
The connivances of bees- the queen of my eyes
Somehow returning home past the
Mailboxes of Disney World- Alma
In the immense twilight: her birthday cake taken from her:
Her love on the mend, her lost children
Eclipsing beside
Her- just as Saturn has rings- and lions leap bloody
Lipped through their wreaths of flames.