Like The Transoms Of Two Airplanes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Hollowed like a cove by these immortal things
That have come to die,
To give their spirit over the pure intentions of this
Pieta,
Something as immaculate as this liquor approaches;
And I have not known a good world,
Or a satisfying Christmas:
But I have known Alma a handful of times, and her
Eyes have wrecked upon me,
And I have flooded my graveyard with her vineyards,
Until her perfumes rose my antebellum Lazarus,
Who looked into her eyes with so many souls,
Like the transoms of two airplanes who were once
Passing unlawfully close together.