No Reason For The Astronauts Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In this new heaven—an infantile god,
Left exposed amidst the echinopsis of the easement of
The canal—
With his crocodilian smile having already eaten
The hands of reprobates and pirate captains-
As my mind swoons in rum—
And old, old traffic continues
Beating its drums—
The traffics will sail forever onwards—
And the moon will weep and weep beneath starships—
But I no longer suppose that you will ever
Love me—For nothing that
You once spoke to me has the ability to survive—
And in the same amount of time it takes housewives to
Kiss each other,
You will be as round and seeded as a pomegranate—
And when you look up tomorrow, the sugar canes will
Already be burning—
And there will be no reason for the astronauts or
The angels to ever set foot again upon the earth.