Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

She was 19 and very pretty
high school girl smile
and eyes that said .. . .maybe.

By economic theory scarcity increases value
and competition
shortage equals price increase
acute shortage equals highest bidder
supply and demand.
In McMurdo in winter
where men were men . . . . and women few
those who would, or might
could pretty much have what they wanted.
She did
for a while
and then accepted another tender
without informing the now former.

Perhaps she thought intuition would
or bush telegraph.
Popular forensics said sound distracted reason
rumour said it was the steepling ecstasy of coupling
the Master Of Arms said it was straight from ‘The Shining’
a madman with a shovel
a traitorous shovel
issued to every hallway to break out of snow clasped buildings
now breaking in.

The drywall was easily replaced
the door and frame repaired.
She still looked 19
but her eyes seemed much older.

For the back story click Backstage

Her name was Annabel
Never.
“Fig”- always
Fig, the first syllable of her four syllable surname
Puerto Rican and hard-working
signed up to the military to see the world
and get out of San Juan.

Smart
savvy
and salty
she knew exactly what was going down
and who was screwing who.

We were a contractor
the Navy our client
blame was transferable and uni directional
the Navy’s mistakes were the contractor’s mistakes
non returnable.

Once when called to the office
Fig arrested me en route
planting a big wet kiss cheekside
“there baby”, she cooed
“ you should always have a kiss before you get fucked.”

For the back story click Backstage

He was a serious man
but difficult to take seriously.
He was an intelligent man
who looked stupid.
He was diligent and shy
both were confounding – seemed wrong
as if he had appropriated another’s character.
His gait was rolling, almost clumsy
that fitted
it would have been
if he had been his look-alike – Fred Flintstone.

He was in charge for winter
200 people
living at the edge of the world
unreachable
sustained by engineered umbilicals.
It could blow anywhere- any time
then 200 would have to take to the trenches
it weighed on him – What if?

Whenever he rang
and worry catalysed frequent phone calls
“yabba a dabba doo,” would ring out in the background
a chorus
the recipient communicating
in laughter suppressed gulps
y . . . esss sir. . . n. . . oo. . .I’ll g. . . .ett onnn t. . . oo . . . . it.

It was called CAP.
No one could remember the precise translation
the old timers said it was an acronym
that it stood for Command Advance Programme.
It was for exemplary actions – not uncommon in the military
instant promotion –“ just add water,” the old hands said.

Winter Over was a command
each command entitled to one CAP
no questions asked – Commanding Officer’s discretion
use or lose
the CO did – to promote himself.
Perhaps he really was Fred Flintstone.

For the back story click Backstage