Little Goldfish

Pleased as the pleasant bees taking over
A small corner of the house'
Little wildflowers outside sipping of the sunbeams'
In just a slant of a garden,
The forest otherwise over grown 'making a poetry of
The inner space'
Little windows looking through keyholes'
A little goldfish swims back to his garden'a little girl
Holds hands
And examines the ribbon of a canal 'maybe she lives
In a fish bowl, or at least a trailer park 'underneath the
Talking lines 'only if she ever looked so
Beautiful as to ever be my muse'
The parks lay barrenly across from her 'the mountains
Gather up their news '
Wild horses on the forefront of a graveyard of missing
Parents 'Airplanes making an apiary in the
Sky over a forest fire lactating a breakfast
Of honey and eggs'
As stewardesses get together begging to be remembered
As they keep continuing far above another world.

by Robert Rorabeck

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