Weather forecast

From now on
and only at weekends
the rain will fall upwards

At all other times
it will fall horizontally
and resemble black hail

I imagine him
laying there thinking
using a voice from the Goon Show
'Come on legs, get up now'
and his legs not listening
and, being him
a fiercely proud and independent man
a grown man wearing a nappy
this would soon get out of hand
There would be shouting
and he would beat his legs
with flailing fists
He would curse and yell
and beat his useless-bastard legs
or would
if he could move his arms

I hear the engines
when the wind is in the south

A slow whine builds to a scream
holds itself steady for a long count
longer than seems safe
then throttles back in stages
from scream to roar to whine
to silent stop

The day rights itself
everything's in place
but for that kerosene smell
drifting across the valley
that makes the lungs wince
and is the colour of brown mist

Nursing busted ribs
Yeager buckles in

The order sat uneasily

exhales slowly
checks his dials and switches

Twin Brownings cut furrows

stills his thoughts
as best he can

The people fell as corn

There's a photograph
in grainy black and white
of North Korean Migs
banking at great speed
the air around them busy
with a hundred small dots
pencil marks and smudges
an ink and charcoal drawing
a rising arc of birds
pursuing insects

Half a life away
a darkened room

green dials sweep
flocking birds raise chatter

rotations, amphetamines
cold winds from the Urals

when I was a kid in Winter
we roamed frozen fields
made pipe bombs 
from fertiliser and sugar
blew the shit out of dung heaps
picked off rats with airguns

this was a regular pastime
when we were not otherwise engaged
arguing the toss:
Black and White or Colour?
Dunaway or Deneuve?
the relative merits
of Mig15 and Sabre

I.

Wave after wave
the island grows

White light at the port becomes men

A retinue awaits

II.

Inside a palace of marble and wood
deep shadows pool

A cool breeze from the sea

The playing of fountains

III.

The Sultan smells of roses
sits and does not speak

He is here and somewhere else

Others negotiate

IV.

Terms are struck

There are photographs

Afterwards there is tea
strange and green and sweet

V.

Re-crossing the Strait
he calculates percentages

Neither too little
nor too much

Always room for doubt

VI.

He dreams by Tilly light

Whisky and soda

Cedar and camphor

The ceiling fan
redistributes hot air

In the far distance
hazy where the Trent is
(although you cannot see it)
great land-ships lay
in tight formation
anchored down the valley

At night it's all lights

He taught me how to play
how to cradle marble
between forefinger and thumb
taught me arcane marble law
(What are Taw and Mib?)
the secrets of the quick Punjabi flick
to always play for keeps
and only see the nyab
that you are aiming for

Nyabs - Kenya school-speak for the game of marbles