The world is freezing <br />On the other side of the moon. <br />No one sees the silver trees dying <br />Amidst the little boys. <br />How many invisible levels must be completed <br />Before you find her waiting in the secret room? <br />Up the hidden ladder, which the mathematicians <br />Had predicted, <br />But she’s lost her heart <br />And the way down to the sea. The sky is in <br />A plastic bag- it can not breathe. <br />She can only watch you go down <br />Like an airplane fireballed, <br />While she masturbates atop the red velvet <br />Of the curtains you bought her, <br />Before her mind turned into the golden <br />Arrow that knocked you off your horse, <br />And put your breath in the bag with a <br />Little fish. <br />And something about all of this reminds you <br />Of a father, who moved into the gardens <br />Beside the highway to sleep with a younger <br />Woman, while your mother staid at home <br />And roamed the kitchen like a butchered <br />Banshee, screaming out the window <br />Across the canal- the crickets and alligators, <br />And the lions down the street in the zoo <br />Serenading her as they execute the moon <br />From the second story <br />Where nothing remains, <br />Placing it’s feet in the places where <br />You remember stepping before you made <br />Yourself into the rocket that shot away.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rocket-that-shot-away/
