Amelia Redux 1937-2012:
A Pilot's Log

South Atlantic

Eos invades eventide
Ocean dimples gray
Whale pod below shares my path:
Slate cetaceous bodies
Elongate, finny, knobbed,
--Electra-kin--
Magnetite hidden in skulls,
--Compass-like--
I reel out antenna, pliant
As seaweed,
Lead weight hangs on as sinker
Through ear-pieces hear whale sirens:
Sonorous, somnolent,
Awed at ends,
Imprinted by ridge and trench,
A fog-horn, craniate din
One whale bears fragment
Of archaic harpoon,
His song translates the wound
Froth-striae off Africa
Abscise whale wakes
Dense mist hinders landfall
I bank plane vertically,
Am blinded by effulgent sun,
Angle antenna past slipstream,
Swing broadcasts vibrate Electra's hull:

Night and stars above that shine so bright
The myst'ry of their fading light
That shines upon our caravan 

Night and stars...caravan: lyrics from Caravan,
Duke Ellington, 1936. 


Gao, Mali

I lower Electra's flaps, landing gear,
Letdown to Gao
A petrol pantry stockpiles at hangar,
--20 drums of fuel labeled "A.E."-- 
Women near mud houses pound millet,
Pour grain from height,
Let breeze blow chaff
On bole rooftop I count shooting stars,
Gold mussed sky lulls me to sleep
I dream of pilot Marvel Crossen,
Killed during air race in Arizona badlands
Her sabotaged Travel Air took
A tailspin,
Marvel fell to desert floor,
Parachute wrapped 'round her
Like a developing blossom
She shows me celestial map,
Denotes bright star Sirius,
With companions in rotation,
--Digitaria and Sorghum--
(Named for particles of nourishment
By Dogon people)
Marvel crumples her chart into a ball,
"The world is round," she says,
"Because stories travel best on curved surfaces." 

Dogon: An ethnic group living in central Mali, Africa. 


El Fasher, Africa

Attending winds propel us
To Darfur Province,
Heat gnashes air, 
Dictates bumpy ride
Plane throws staccato silhouette
Across silica desolate
Map abstracts native paths
As cut red lines,
Indicates
Spiky hedge 'round El Fasher berth
My 10E parks on stark field,
Sacred ibises promenade
Spurge verge,
Airport personnel point "flit" guns,
Greet with squirts
Of germ destroying mist
I'm ensconced at Governor's residence,
Once sultan's palace,
Suite adjoins harem quarters of earlier days:
I press ear against arcane door,
Pick up sounds of muffled talk of women,
Imagine them
Silk-robed, supine in diffuse light
I suit up: gabardine slacks, twill shirt,
--Scarf my only frill--
Peer through arched windows 
To arid locale:
Refugee camps taut with tarps, dot sands
Water containers queue in spirals,
Mothers in gossamer balance bags atop heads;
Their carriage elegant 

Laura Stickney