By Graveyards Of Baseball Poem by Robert Rorabeck

By Graveyards Of Baseball



Belly fattened by graveyards of baseball—
Another startling blue jay out on the battlefields underneath
The Christmas trees and all of their weeping monuments—
Why does it have to come to this—
As the cities lactate cerulean exegisis into their canals—
And the gods that they birth the alligators are arisen
Underneath the airplanes and the ceiling fans—
Another way to lose himself is here—
And my parents come home too late to see the strange trees
Bloom over the pignosed rattles—
As the cicadas come off like confections, and the only mermaid
I will ever know loses herself in the canals and the
Detritus of my backyards as the
Sugarcanes burn and burn—
And I get up too early again to remember my childhood—
Strange, spinning monuments to those who know the
Cremations of the dusk of another baseball game
I never saw with my father
As my estranged wife buries plastic flowers over the
Mounds of ants and ant lions—and I wait for another weekend
To extinguish—filled with plastic dolls
Losing all of their dresses over the playgrounds we were never
Meant to extinguish.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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