The Weather Makers, by Matt Rader
We carry it with us wherever
we go, like germs or secrets,
genetic pre-dispositions
to illness. It dogs us, has our scent,
our number, an uncanny knack
bordering on the psychic to know
where we’ll turn up next and be hot
on our heels or already there
waiting to greet us. A crooked wire
of lightning we snagged
in the under carriage and dragged
across the badlands, that long scratchpad
of highway to come-what-may and everything
after. Unshakeable, we wake to hear it
stomping on rooftops, tapping
like small rocks against the window
of our hearts, or knocking-out
the power like artillery in some Iraqi
province. Socked-in and stalked by
cloud-cover sent in the spirit of good
detective work or bounty hunters
meant to bring us to justice,
we are on the lamb from our own
Captain Ahab, Pat Garrett, guilt
over those early experiments
in greed and curiosity we could say
created the situation at hand. Next time
we are in your town, watch for a twister
to touch down a few inches from where you stand.
All it takes is a whiff. Tag. You’re it.
From Living Things
Nightwood Editions, 0-88971-223-9
http://nightwoodeditions.com/title/LivingThings
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