Through The Injustices Of Crepescule Poem by Robert Rorabeck

One child yelling in the court of
A scattering room- mother and father gone to
Oblivion,
Two sisters both with boyfriends across the
Canal:
Now the only sport is touching itself underneath the
Ceiling fan,
Motes of plastic toys and witches in the yard,
The ants marching underneath her skirts:
The sugar cane is burning paper airplanes and
Snowflakes.
The firecrackers have gone to oblivion- and the heavens
Diadem themselves through the injustices of
Crepuscule, another day’s zoetrope
Turning in common place around the mailboxes
That will have to watch the children get up again
And go to school.