Out of the Blue

1.

All lost.

All lost in the dust.
Lost in the fall and the crush and the dark.
Now all coming back.

2.

Up with the lark, downtown New York.
The sidewalks, the blocks.
Walk.  Don't walk.  Walk.  Don't Walk.

Breakfast to go:
an adrenalin shot
in a Styrofoam cup

Then plucked from the earth,
rocketed skyward,
a fifth a mile
in a minute, if that.
The body arrives
then the soul catches up.

3.

That weird buzz
of being at work
in the hour before work.

All terminals dormant,
all networks idle.
Systems in sleep-mode,

all stations un-peopled.
I get here early
just to gawp from the window.

Is it shameless or brash to have reached top,
just me and America
ninety floors up?

Is it brazen to feel like a king, like a God,
to ge surfing the wave
of a power trip,

a fortune under each fingertip,
a billion a minute, a million a blink,
selling sand to the desert,

ice to the Arctic,
money to the rich.
The elation of trading in futures and risk.

Here I stand, a compass needle,
a sundial spindle
right at the pinnacle.

Under my feet
Manhattan's a simple bagatelle, a pinball table,
all lights and mirrors and whistles and bells.

The day begun.
The sun like a peach.
A peach of a sun.

And everything framed
by a seascape dotted with ferries and sails
and a blue sky zippered with vapour trails.

Beyond this window it's vast and it's sheer.
Exhilaration.  All breath.  All clear.

4.

Arranged on the desk
among the rubber bands and bulldog clips:

here is a rock from Brighton beach,
here is a beer-mat, here is a leaf

of a oak, pressed and dried, papery thin.
Here is a Liquorice Allsorts tin.

A map of the  Underground pinned to the wall
The flag of St George.  A cricket ball.

Here is a calendar, counting the days.
Here is a photograph snug in its frame,

this is my wife on our wedding day,
here is a twist of her English hair.

Here is a picture in purple paint:
two powder-paint towers, heading for space,

plus rockets and stars and the Milky way,
plus helicopters and aeroplanes.

Jelly-copters and fairy-planes.
In a spidery hand, underneath it, it says,

"If I stand on my toes can you see me wave?"

5.

The towers at one.
The silent prongs of a tuning fork,
testing the calm.

Then a shudder or bump.
A juddering thump or a thud.
I swear no more

than a thump or a thud
But a Pepsi Max jumps out of its cup.
and a filing cabinet spews its lunch.

And the water-cooler staggers then slumps.
Then a sonic boom and the screen goes blue.
Then a deep, ungodly dragon's roar.

In the lobby, the lift opens up,
and out of the door
the tongue of a dragon comes rolling out.

Then the door slides shut and the flames are gone.
Then ceiling tiles, all awry at once.
Then dust, a soft, white dust

snowing down from above.
We are ghostly at once.
See, there on the roof,

the cables, wires, pipes and ducts,
the veins and fibres and nerves and guts,
exposed and loose.

In their shafts, the lift-cars clang
and the cables are plucked,
a deep, sub-human, unaudible twang.

And a lurch.
A pitch.
A sway to the south.

I know for a fact these towers can stand
the shoulder-charge of a gale force wind
or the body-check of a hurricane.

But this is a punch, a hammer blow.
I sense it thundering underfoot,
a pulsing, burrowing, aftershock

down through the bone-work of girders and struts,
down into earth and rock.
Right to the root.

The horizon totters and lists.
The line of the land seems to teeter
on pins and stilts,

a perceptible tilt.
Then the world re-aligns, corrects itself.
Then hell lets loose.

And I knew we torn
I knew we were holed
because through that hole

a torrent of letters and memos and forms
now streams and storms
now flocks and shoals
now passes and pours
now tacks and jibes
now flashes and flares
now rushes and rides
now flaps and glides...

the centrefold of the New York Times
goes winging by

then a lamp
a coat
a screen
a chair

a youghurt pot
a yucca plant
a yellow cup
a Yankees cap

A shoe falls past, freeze-framed against the open sky.
I see raining flames.
I see hardware fly.

6.

Millicent wants an answer now.
Anthony talks through a megaphone.
Mitch says it looks like one of those days.
Abdoul calls his mother at home.

Christopher weeps for his cat and his dog.
Monica raises her hand to her eye.
Lee goes by with his arm on fire.
Abigail opens a bottom drawer.

Raymond punches a hole in the wall.
Pedro loosens his collar and tie.
Ralph and Craig join an orderly queue.
Amy goes back to look for her purse.

Joseph presses his face to the glass.
Theresa refrains from raising her voice.
Abdoul tries his mother again.
Bill pulls a flashlight out of his case.

Tom replaces the top on a pen.
Peter hears voices behind the door
Abdoul tries his mother again.
Glen writes a note on a paper plane.

Gloria's plan is another dead-end.
Paul draws a scarf over Rosemary's face.
Arnold remembers the name of his wife.
Judy is looking for Kerry and Jack.

Edwardo lights a ciragette.
Dennis goes down on his hands and knees
Stephanie edges out onto the ledge.
Jeremy forces the door of the lift.

Dean gets married in less than a month.
Peter is struggling under the weight.
Sue won't leave without locking her desk.
Mike lifts a coat-stand over his head.

Elaine is making a call to a school.
Claude won't be needing this anymore.
Rosa and Bob never stood a chance.
Josh goes looking but doesn't come back.

7.

Go up go down.  Sit right for now.  Or move.   Don't move.  It's all in hand.  Make a call on the phone.
Stay calm. Then shout.  Stay calm.  Then SHOUT.  Come back.  I think we should leave but not in
the lift.  This staircase closed.  This staiwell black.  Keep cool.   Keep your head.  For fuck's sake
man this telephone's dead.  Get low to the floor.  Who bolted this door?   Try the key, try the code.
Hit nine one one.  Come away from the glass.  Keep back from the heat.   Heat rises, right?  Go down.
Go south.  That exit locked.  That lobby blocked.  That connecting corridor clogged with stone.  The
lights go out.  Come on.  Go out.  A fire alarm drones.  Come away from the edge.  Hit nine one one.
Call home call home.  Come here and see, we made the news.  Try CNN.  Try ABC. They say it's a
plane.  So bung it with something to stop the smoke.  Or we choke.  Use a skirt, use a shirt  Rescue
services now on their way.  What with.  With what - with a magic carpet?  A thousand foot rope?
Stand back from the door.  They're saying it's war.  Don't break the glass - don't fan the flames.
Outside it's sheer.  A wing and a prayer.  Go up.  Go north.  Get out on the roof.  No way.  Call home.
Call home.  It's daddy, ask mummy to come to the phone.  Get mummy, tell mummy to come to the
phone.  Just DO AS YOU'RE TOLD.  this glass, like metal.  If we step out there...if  we stay in here.
This glass, like metal.  Just DO AS YOU'RE TOLD.  Get mummy, tell mummy to come to the phone.
It's daddy, ask mummy to come to the phone.  Call home.  Call home.  Get out on the roof.  Go north.
Go up. A wing and a prayer.  It's air.  Outside it's sheer.  Outside it's air.  Don't break the glass -don't
fan the flames.  They're saying it's war.  Stand back from the door.  What with?  With what - a magic
carpet?  A thousand foot rope.  Rescue services now on their way.  Use a skirt, use a shirt.  Or we
choke.  So bung it with something to stop the smoke.  They say it's a plane.   Try ABC.  Try CNN.
Come here and see, we made the news.  Call home call home.  Hit nine one one.   Come away from
the edge.  A fire alarm drones.  Go out.  Come on.  The lights go out.   That connecting corridor clogged
with stone.  That lobby blocked.  That exit locked.  Go south.  Go down.  Heat rises, right?  Keep back
from the heat.  Come away from the glass.  Hit nine one one.  Try the key, try the code.  Who bolted
this door?  Get low to the floor.  For fuck's sake man this telephone's dead.   Keep your head.  Keep
cool.  This stairwell black.  This staircase closed.  I think we should leave but not in the lift.  Come back.
Then SHOUT.  Stay calm.  Then shout.  Stay calm.  Make a call on the phone.  It's all in hand.  Don't
move.  Or move.  Sit tight for now.  Go up go down.  Sit tight for now.  Go up.  Go down.

8.

Fire as a rumour at first.
Fire as a whisper of wolves,
massing and howling

beneath the floor,
clawing and scrabbling,
tongues of flame licking under the door.

And smoke like fear.
Smoke as a bear, immense and barrelling,
horribly near.

Then furious heat.
Incensed.
Every atom irate and alive with heat.

And air won't arrive.
Un-breathed, an ocean of sky
goes sailing past on the other side.

Now heat with its nails in your eye.
With its breath to your face.
With its hands in your hair,

its fist in your throat.
So the window shatters,
the glass goes through.

Crane into with void
Lean into the world.
It's not in my blood

to actually jump.
I don't have the juice.
But others can't hold.

So a body will fall.  And a body will fall.
And a body will fall.  And a body will fall.
And a body will drop

through the faraway hole
of vanishing point,
smaller then gone,

till the distant hit and the burst of dust.
The shock.  the stain
of fruit and stone.