I am seeing somebody, and she is not here:
My back hurts:
I am forgetting that I haven’t learned how to spell:
Fairytales are on the swings,
And muses that I cannot bare to leave are being taken
Down from the sky like ornaments,
From the vespers that whisper her one or two names
To the hollow places on my person:
To both the places that open up to her, and to the places
That would try to close around her:
Pleading the effigies underneath the stir crazy bodies of
The airplanes, turning around
Like birds singing a song over the happy though armless
Prince to which their lighter than air bodies are
Meaning to crown.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/somebody-26/
