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Like School Kids Skipping Away To Nothing In Particulare

Cannibals slum as rain streaks the windows
Before el arco iris,
And I have seen her turning to me like a beautiful
Ship made out of the lumber of trees
That don’t grow anymore
Except for in the rhapsodies of her eyes:
There they grow and captivate little school hood boys,
As the airplanes dye cast from precious metals allotted
From the school boxes of our young truancies
Build a tiara for her sainthood;
And she yawns as foreplay and shows her teeth,
Her incisors imbedded before her smile like the sharp
Moon kindling for the wolf;
And the firemen come out to greet her and lay down
With the dragons after the busy work day is over
And the wind is picking up around our little house
The same way it does for school buses;
And the mariposas dance and sing in her throat as if they
Were teenagers somehow enjoying a ballet,
And she lets them there, and purrs like a mountain lion
As their pulpy tender wings tickle her all the way
Down the avenue where her heart pounds again and again
Like school kids skipping away to nothing in particular.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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