poems gigs misc. why don't you EMdC home
Sikorsky 61 Sea King, Lewis and Harris

I.
metering light
through a scuffed
sea king window
focusing further
on bright bays and hills

aperture matched up
with f-numbers
guessed at
and nobody knows
how to rewind the film

which was set for
the wrong speed
not two but four hundred
and four dozen exposures
are right down the drain

and anyway a notepad
and pen
would be better
for writing and watching
the world we fly by

& taking a stab at
the colours below us
with words
sketching shapes
of the sea, rocks and sand

while seeing the scene
of the crew
on the inside
showing the guests
all the tricks of their trade

& catching the blurred scratching
speech through
the headphones
“Stornoway coastguard”
and “infrared sheep”


II.
white waves
like lace
swashing &
snagging on
the rocky
Hebridean coast

flying low
spellbound & speechless
over
smooth
peachy
beaches

cutaway
dome of
an ancient
twin-walled
burial
mound

small houses
garages
sheds & cars
all look
equally
unreal

one day from
summer solstice
we see Calanais
these old stones
from all round
elevated angles
and through
the helicopter's
all-seeing
camera-eye
zoom-in
video screen

tents
surround
the site
& people waving
or shooing away
the noisy big bird?

the lighthouses
briefly seen
& high rise cloud textures
small shapes & big lines
carved into the land
land that only just seems to
make it out of the sea

 

III.
hands up who wants
winched out
& we hover over
bent flat
airfield grass
& flowers
& I wait
while winchmen
prepare the gear
one goes first
waits on the ground
and takes a picture
of me buffeted
windwept
kirby gripped
and beaming

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