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