Traffic passing over my head- rushing angels, <br />And I am homeless: <br />In my cathedral, tomorrow, there will be a flea market: <br />Can you not remember my name- <br />Crazy distillations as she takes off her brazier- <br />Maybe she is your mother- <br />Maybe she will take you a long way from here- <br />Even through the tadpoles’ metamorphosis- <br />Even through the echoes of the banshee’s high school- <br />Long and silently haunted tenements <br />Looking down- <br />And down- a cradle down there in the river so far <br />Away- a child without a mother- languishing in <br />The sun.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/languishing-in-the-sun/
