CINE-POEM


1. EXT. IRISH SEA, NIGHT

Mid winter. Scathing
south-easterly gale. An exorcism
of colossal waves; a ship
emerging from swell

screeching, wailing, rampant
plucking of a rusting fiddle


an almighty thud: violent
punch to the ferry's hull.

Blackout.

FADE INTO: ampoules of colour; the lights
of a distant rig.


2. INT. SHIP'S SALON, NIGHT

A dog whines. Passengers
hunch over knees. Last suppers
crump into sick-bags. Morbid
creaks from metal frames
and the pitted floors
a momentary suspension

what the -

ship rears up
behind closed hatches
crockery crashes
the 'great ninth wave'
rabid on portholes
the force nine gale
fist-fucking the funnels.

V.O. The grey wolf waits
in the halls of the gods.




3. EXT. SEABED. NIGHT

Silence as a lone crab
balances all the above
on its latticed back


NOTE TO DIRECTOR: these three scenes
should be played out on a loop
in real time i.e. seven and a half
hours of relentless misery (which, though long
is still a lot shorter than Das Boot).



Janette Stowell

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