Robert Rorabeck - Of The Orchards

And there was an echo:
As the serpent slid from the tree:
And there was an echo,
As you remembered me- cherry tree,
And scars on my cheek:
Panhandlers sleeping across the oily creek-
How I loved you, you don’t
Know,
The camels of cigarettes baptizing on the billboards of
Sunny snow:
My wrist was open, unshelled, clean-
It led the fight for you,
But you were so mean- crying, deceptive, perfumes
Erupting from the well:
The windmills turned for you, but they whispered
Only hell-
And I. a sailor, lost but unafraid- the lighthouse of
Your soul lying deceptively-
The hope of angels closing shop, to go on truancies
Stealing marmalade from the orgies of the orchards,
And very fine fabrications left into the wanton
Sky- I saw you children,
But I knew you could never cry.

Robert Rorabeck

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