Reel to reel

- it seems that way for all the grand disasters
even smaller ones; some stop to stare
helpless, curious, maybe morbid
conceivably seeking catharsis of Greek tragedy
second-hand escapes, rescue, injury,
death by proxy purging fear and pity
relief  too that the mortal blow passed by
- this time  

As a child I saw wild fires tear through the bush
hurricanes, earthquakes, whirlpools
and favourite of all were the glowing laval flows
with their slyly snaking ways, long arms
fingering far into the valleys below
I'd sit, mouth agape in the warm dark cinematic womb
the doctored documentary, sanitized and de-focused
oblivious to the suffocations and drownings
on the other side of celluloid
- only the lowered safety curtain at the show's end
hinted that life is not all spectacle 

Disasters are box-office topics, remaking the real
fabricating what-ifs
for hours we clutch the edge of our seats
riding out a storm surge of dread and drama
and after the knife-edge finale, our alarm dismissed as fiction
'The Towering Inferno' was just such a movie
emergency over, lights up and we all headed home
but one September, several thousands did not
and in the 17 years of settled dust
many more find no relief

Amaya asks us to pick a word or phrase from a previous September poem and re-work it for Poetics: On a Loop. last 9/11 I wrote a quadrille unrelated to the anniversary but from it I have taken the term ‘laval flow’ – see ‘As a Bird