Rain Spell
The 1915 German zeppelin bombings of London
Aren’t as well known as the next war’s
But for the year before the invention of incendiary bullets finally stopped them
They blotted out the sun, the biggest flying objects ever made
A three ton bomb was dropped on Saint Paul’s Cathedral, the biggest one yet
This was before the invention of plastic of course
So each blimp was made of leather and canvas
A quarter million cows each it’s estimated
So many that there was a sausage shortage that winter in Berlin
I always loved the way, when you walk into an indoor swimming pool
And there’s only one other person there
How you each try to ignore one another
Just doing your laps and not making eye contact
But a kind of intimacy settles over the two of you
Although neither swimmer would ever say it
Two objects
Passing forward and backwards in the bright blue deep
Yesterday, I tried to cast some kind of spell,
My first one since I started and then stopped believing in such things
They used to tell me I was a rain maker, when I was growing up
I don’t know what that means, but the urge for mystery remains
So I took three lemon seeds from the dinner I was cooking and tossed them into the sand
I said something I don’t remember
Asked for the monsoon early
Unconsciously, when we do this
I have always imagined the high dive
Backwards into air
Like so
World beneath me, forever sky