MENIERES

for SM


I was helicoptering over the Gambia,
the blades whirling around my head, thundering
the dust up in windmills and eddies.
My ears were spitting white hot sparks,
the air cleaved open by the chopping rotor
and I was violently sick. I was looking
for something that didn't move. Something static.
The world was a tumble drier. Churned blankets
and clothes. A pile of rags caught up
in the agitator, turned. I was falling out of the sky.
Spiralling down. Corkscrewing pavements
and smack I was under. Diving bell deaf.
At these pressures you're listening through wool.
Movement is slower. You're floating
among the fish with hook teeth and marble eyes.


*update! Thanks to Spangle McQueen now with sound: Click Here for Soundcloud

This poem was comissioned for charity by Spangle McQueen. It is about the condition Meniere's Disease and the funds raised by the poem will go towards the Meniere's Society. I would like to thank Chris Packham and the forum members of Meniere's Disease UK.