Posted in Antarctica


The lurching stops
eager first timers stand up
one final lurch tosses me sideways.
Sophomores and greater, laugh
“ fin gees,” echoes through the cabin.

[ fin gee]
Antarctic slang : abbreviation for fucken new guy.

The man says, “ bags ain’t ready man
go to chow
bags might be dragged den.”
Where to collect them ?
“there man …… .”
he smiles and walks to an empty space
“dey be here …. when dey here.”
He is tall, beautiful and black, with fabulous teeth. And rhythm
the women can’t keep their eyes from him.

In the mess hall everybody stands in line
aluminium tray in hand
shuffling slowly forward
fans waiting admission to the game.

“ It’s not months
it’s not weeks
it’s not days
A man rushes up the in corridor
and down the out corridor
holding a wrist watch aloft and pointing at the hands.
“Going home,” says the person behind me
“ winter does that to people.”                    For the backstory click Backstage



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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