To Her Light Poem by Robert Rorabeck

And I have this dream of
Screaming my mothers name
As a child
In the carport- as it rains:
The frogs laugh at me, the sky throws its
Darts.
Airplanes are black phantasms-
And my mother, where is she:
Is she stuck to the black vine with him,
Kissing something that doesn’t
Have any feet:
Has she flown across the canal with him
And lost herself in the holly
With the paper airplanes
And forgotten school buses;
And how do the cats cry for her
When they wish to come milking at
Her feet?
Do they cry for her the way I cry for
Her-
And how can I go on the fieldtrip without
Her; and the washing machine
And the orange tree in the backyard seem
So empty without her:
And the moon doesn’t have anything
To still,
And I have no one to feed me,
Or to hold up my words to her light.