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Francis Raven

He pushes on the forceful spa jet
with one thumb
               and then,
when that doesn't work,
        with the whole base of his hand,
trying to make the water go elsewhere;
perhaps he was trying to make the water
spit from the lens of the telescope,
        focusing the notion of rain
        with that of a star,
making constellations in the mind
               of molecules
        being split by comets,
erupting from the blowhole of a gray whale,
just a little too far out to see.

Francis Raven

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