The Languages Of Another Tomb Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Unspeakably coming home to me,
Lightweight airplane touching down over the
Baseball diamonds—and in all of their
Echoes wishing to know just who
Was exactly in love—
Plagiarisms inside a classroom of glass bottles
Leading to grandmothers eventually awakening from
Coffins—and then my first born is born
And married, given the names of my ancestors,
Asked to take over without any instructions—
And in those places where the fantasies
A belly-full—
My mother alone and singularly beautiful,
Giving her best wishes forever over a birthday cake
We cannot see anymore—and if you
Exist on seeing him, then remember he is only
Midway there in your soul—gesticulations
That seem to evaporate in the afternoon,
While I guessed that I was in love with you—
But you just happened to be the promises I could
Not survive happening everywhere like the dying promises
Of pomegranates dropped and heavy upon
The fallacies of the languages of another tomb.