Transatlantic Cable

A poem.

For Jerome Rolnick, z”l

 

We walk up

along the edge of a hay field

that hasn’t yet been hayed this summer

swatting aside seed heads

and circling horseflies

slipping between rust red trees at the hilltop.

After a dip, the land rears up

like a horse

before dropping down again,

planting its hooves in hard-packed dirt.

A creek draws a question mark

–or is it a gaff? –

around a shale ledge

gritting Mosasaurus teeth

and we stomp in our rubber boots

past the vexed branches of a fallen tree

searching for the question.

Arriving at a grassy lane

that unfurls like a neat green canal

my brother-in-law points to a sign and says:

“This was the route of the Transatlantic Cable.

AT&T used to fly over every week

with a surveillance sniper

who would fire down at you –

warning shots –

if you were digging anywhere near it.”

I find this hard to believe, but then

It’s also hard to believe that the cable –

a triumph more glorious than was ever won on the field of battle

is obsolete.

A VCR. A microcassette recorder. A Sunoco map of Maryland.

That we can communicate now

via radio waves from point A to point B

at the speed of light.

“The transatlantic cable weighed 1.1 tons per nautical mile,”

says A.I. Overview. “This includes the copper wire conductor,

the gutta-percha insulation,

and the tarred hemp and iron wire sheathing.”

Gutta-percha.

Gut-perch.

The flaming yellow insides of a knife-opened fish.

Does anyone remember:

It took 16 hours for Queen Victoria’s 98-word message

to travel the cable from the Isle of Wight

to President Buchannan at the Summer White House in Bedford, Pennsylvania?

Europe and America are united by telegraph.

Along the way, the words stopped to put their feet up, reclining on chaise loungers

chortling and chittering in a haze of cigar smoke.

At night, I read Harry Potter to my daughter

and wonder: If wizards had cellphones

would they still need magic?

If Kingsley Shacklebolt had an iPhone 16 ProMax, for instance

would he have needed to send a patronus –

that prowling lynx –

to Bill and Fleur’s wedding

warning them the Ministry had fallen?

Rising from the grass tips

I smell tarred hemp, iron wire sheathing.

Leaving the woods I see

a dragonfly on a mineral white rock

with wings like the square-rigged sails of a pirate ship,

a dark mark.

 

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