No Reason For Light Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Contributing to suicides:
The starlight on her skin, outlasting her patience,
Her will to move into the lucrative arms of well-lit pools,
And the estuaries of bank accounts;
Their light could last for ever on the pale bareness of
Her upper arms,
Shimmer there like monarch butterflies in the sparse
But powerful forests in Mexico,
Resting their delicate foundations after their migration;
Even after they had died,
Their light could remain upon her well into her grave,
Given the chance,
They could feed her, sustain her with the permanency
Of famous oratory, but she moves away:
Again and again, like a teacup of water tossed into the river.
She is not herself anymore- She is a thousand others
Rushing to embrace the sea,
Where the unknown lights fall now is not for sure:
Lies in a complicated meadow, a parking garage,
A steep driveway after a slick rain, vibrating with the
Trepidations of loneliness
The poet stoops to unread,
For now, living or dead, there is no reason for light at all.