Amelia Redux 1937-2012:
A Pilot's Log

Singapore

Polyglot terra beyond Johor Straits,
My Malay course antecedes
Showa Army route of '42
City-state river's an entrail,
Flumes vitals to harbor
Scant degrees off equator band
I fly over Sentosa Isle:
Site-future for mass graves of
Chinese males executed
After Island's fall,
(Fore-shore trenches will
Give up skulls slowly)
Fishing vessels bob sea-lane
Aside "detached mole" jetty
Ruby and green bumboats
--Decorated with eyes painted on bows--
Ferry goods to steamers in "outer roads"
Electra descends to new Kallang Airport:
Moderne terminal rises
Like aqua-glassed liner,
Beside circular landing ground
I taxi across pavers,
Shut off motors,
Strains of Chinese street opera,
--Gongs, cymbals, strings--
Wail 'tween engine ebbs
I exit cockpit,
Walk down Orchard Road,
Bypass Tudor mansion,
--Soon to be Headquarters
Of Japanese Military Police--
(Singapore citizens tortured there,
Will be heard screaming at night)
I come to Dhoby Ghaut Green:

Observe women washing clothes near fresh rivulet
Bright linens, cotten batiks heaped in
Cane baskets drip colors when wet
Veiled laundress stares; my bare head and trousers, sins

Bright linens, cotton batiks heaped in
Wrung-out twists droop o'er bamboo racks
Veiled laundress stares; my bare head and trousers, sins
Pulai trees along canal perfume air with flower bracts

Wrung-out twists droop o'er bamboo racks
Cane baskets drip colors when wet
Pulai trees along canal perfume air with flower bracts
I observe women washing clothes near fresh rivulet 

Bandoeng, Java

Sunda Strait:
Krackatoa's launch-pad strewn
With islets turquoise wound,
Fan-palms gridlock to shores,
Create infinite vistas
Of pinwheels evergreen
Bandoeng seats between
Pyroclastic teats,
I skywrite bath-tub ring
Of Java-man's great lake,
Circle Andir Airfield,
Bunded rice paddies
Interpose runway lattices,
Vert chenille puckers highlands,
Stretches taut across plateau
Ship drifts to aerodrome flats;
Havens 'neath tin hangar pediment,
Cozies alongside DC-2's
Mechanic "Fuzz" Furman loosens
His silk tie,
Sheds white-linen jacket with
Chaplinesque flair,
Scales creaky ladder steps,
Pulls cowlings off my craft's sturdy
Wings
The curved sections nest
Like lustrous husks on concrete floor
"Fuzz" upgrades Electra's duo engines,
Installs military blower gears
To super-charge performance
I crouch under plane's burnished mug,
Contemplate her motorized mandalas
Of nine pistons each
Long ago--an idling biplane--
Spun frost into my face
In that instant,
I knew I had to fly 

Laura Stickney

photo from Lockheed archive