The Light She Has Stolen Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Orchards upon orchards where she once lived
As the hurricanes pick up entire trailer parks and the trucks
Of her grandfathers:
She has had two children with him even though she
Used to make love with me, until I got fed up and
Went to China and found a wife:
And now, tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, which
Is Easter anyways, I will have to go back to school
And pretend to teach a story by Hemmingway—
It is a frightening place filled with lockjaw and bleeding elbows;
And I wish you would have helped me,
But the moon grows and pulls up the grass, and metamorphoses
The tadpoles, with the light she has stolen,
With everything she pretends that she is.