Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

Scott, Robert Falcon
Naval midshipman
then Captain
then Antarctica.

1910 –13. ‘Scot’s last expedition’ – there were only two
death by starvation
half a day from 1 ton of food
four days north of plan
Oates, strong voiced against deviation
“Sir, I’m afraid you’ll come to regret not taking my advice”
he went outside… where One Ton should have been
symmetry: for both.

The flight is delayed
and again
finally at 1 a.m.
Two colours white and blue
a house with no walls
blue sky ceiling
white floor
ice and sky.
South, until there is only North.

“45 minutes ground time
props need to keep turning
entry and exit through the cargo ramp only.”

Obligation takes me straight to ceremonial pole
and requires to walk around the world
cold: like never before.
Inside
breakfast is beginning
coffee just made
the cook shakes my hand – “congratulations”
offers a cinnamon roll
and another.

90° south January 1912
“great God this is an awful place.” Diary entry : RF Scott

90° south November 1990
coffee, pastry, and warmth.

90° south January 1912
“now for the run home – I wonder if we can make it.” Diary entry : RF Scott

90° south November 1990
“ all pax board now . . . we’ll have you back to McMurdo by lunchtime.”

For the back story click Backstage

14 years after its projected expiry date
the airfield mess was still in use
still the same size
still with the same number of seats
but now feeding 200 not 100.

Space was tight in the kitchen
every spare centimetre gold
every space increasing innovation utilized
the bread slicer moved to the serving room
sliced loaves put next to butter and condiments.

One morning at breakfast
a man is dropping pieces of bread into blade spaces
they fall through
“hey man,” he bellows
“your toaster’s all fucked up.”

For the back story click Backstage

Jimmy Buffett was playing on the tape deck
‘A woman Going Crazy On Caroline Street’
promising to show her place
to someone who’ll be gentle
someone who’ll be sweet.
In the song the woman was a dancer
the woman introducing herself
Jules ….. Julia
was an HEO
Heavy Equipment Operator
cats
D8.

She worked for PW
Public Works
electricity, water, heat, transportation – umbilicals
work meant they couldn’t always make mealtimes, on time
early morning callouts
often meant a late breakfast
and no raisin toast
could I deliver some loaves – for the freezer.

Hut 5
home to Public Works
PW types burly, bearded, beer gutted, scowling.
OFF LIMITS.

I pushed open the door
12 sets of eyes incinerate
bringing to mind the Coliseum and Deliverance
“is Jules in?”
As slowly as molasses
a hirsuite form opens the door to the hallway of rooms
“Juuuuuuuullles” – a chainsaw revving to crescendo
“some cocksucker here to see you.”
I dropped the loaves and fled.

For the back story click Backstage