Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

In the second month of spring
Every year for seven years
flight to the cold
Antarctica
heroes and memories. Mistakes and ghosts.

The aircraft – squat and huge
lands on frozen ocean.
Displacement
at the bottom of the world
order is undemocratic.
Ice makes the rules.

Experienced old hands
saunter to waiting transport.
Newcomers scan the horizon
capturing for the first time
a sight seen many times
the historic peninsula
surrounded on three sides by water
and three dimensions by legend.
To the south the fabled landmark
object of the famous trek to immortality.

History is a subdued bystander
to drinking
to pool playing
to first year university high spirits
to looked away from reality.

Most come for the money and to escape
from cul de sac lives
unhappy apartments
rust belt unemployment.
Each year’s arrival will be the last
each year’s departure the penultimate.

For the story behind a story click Backstage

The clothes are heavy
instructions explicit
ECW clothing must be worn on embarkation
ECW: Extreme Cold Weather.

Identification is presented
admission granted to departure hall
“ Place all baggage in front of the line.
Stand in line, behind the line ”
the tone says : you’re part of the military now.
“ Any contraband may be placed in the amnesty box”
I wonder : has marijuana ever last chanced the box?
“ Do not interact with the dog”
interact : military speak for pat.
Not guilty.

“Proceed to the bus”
an 800m drive to the tarmac
it is forbidden to walk.
Hurry up and wait
a hundred people are penned – literally.
Waist high wire barricades form quarantine.
newby’s find one another and huddle
old stagers mull together murmuring nonchalance.
A confident hand is thrust forward
“ Steven……….your first time?”
“yes.”
I ask the reflexive question
“my fourth.”
Conversation scrambles for loose change of trivia
it doesn’t matter
he has gone.
Mission accomplished.

For the story behind a story click Backstage

6 degrees of separation
2 degrees in New Zealand
everybody knew someone on the aircraft
a scenic flight deceived by a trick of polar light
flat light flattened the horizon – to infinity
they never saw Mount Erebus
257 dead. No survivors.

The doctor said everything was fine
and gave me two forms.
One for the laboratory
one for the dentist.

The dental surgeon hummed while he worked
signed the paper with a flourish
cheerfully flippant about his expertise
“ this is in case you become a smear on Mount Erebus.”

For the story behind a story click Backstage