The Fieldtrips of Stewardesses
As long as the stars and the moon don't care
We can go out swimming in the sea. As long as nobody
Can see us, we can continue swimming away—
Our backs pressed like butterfly wings beneath the
Zoetrope that is outer space—
There, the wild animals go running in the mobiles of
Gravity—and beauties linger with their bosoms
Indentured to the hopeless smiles of foxes—
Hewn into these aquatic estuaries, as if we were skipping school—
We will remain floating in the sea's memories
For a little while—evaporated busses will pass above us,
Of course—filled with the fieldtrips of stewardesses of
Long ago.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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