Back Then


before color tv, before tv
the color of the ocean
the sound of rain on thatch, on bubbling tar
when the clouds lowered to visit
when the rain could go anywhere
but some chose to be slow, to look around
some rain avoided other rain that smelled odd
that refracted light others couldnt see
strings of rain, bows of rain orchestrating the reeds
before asphalt, before multiple stories
when you plugged leaks but no one plugged in

what in tune could have meant

when collision took months
hear them coming from under the hill
the sun hesitates so briefly before setting
honing the earths edge, sharp daggers of stars
penetrating water but never fields
dive in, to die in
to come out the color of birth but not blood
when blood came in various colors

while rounding a corner in a vast open plain
seeds of sand, plowing with petrified bones,
if we’d had enough fingers, other eyes,
if the food here knew our songs


dan raphael