Andrea Bowd 

Drown                                                                                    

Caul, December 1890

Darkest hour of night.
Midwife, stark in white
peels membrane from infant’s face.

With pristine gauze
she cradles the caul.
More precious than newborn son.

Caul is passed through decades,
stored amongst attic treasures
rediscovered and passed again.
Power of prophecy
once revered, then forgotten.

Caul, December 2020

Caul. Ornament framed in glass
hangs in city apartment. Pulsates,
sensing earth’s weakest point: an unfathomed place

hidden in oceans’ depths
or in the shadowed wingspan
of earth’s greatest bird. Beneath a stone set in manicured grass
or a crack in berry-red glass, gracing
the last white-clothed table.

Caul quivers - waits for river-weeds to part
seashells to open, sky to spill its clouds,
oceans to overflow.

Yachts tremble in harbor’s cradle.
The candle is lit.

https://museumofwitchcraftandmagic.co.uk/object/caul/

Museum of Witchcraft and Magic 

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