On A Birthday Cake For Dying Rabbits
Storm clouds laughing over bowling alleys where
No one spends any real time in-
And the jaundice east blowing out the sick
Candles on a birthday cake for
Dying rabbits:
And this is my toy sent spinning out onto
The concrete field,
Covered with so much graffiti, like tattoos
Around your neck,
And the airplanes coming across you
Carelessly every night, but never having the mind
To look down and see.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
