Gemini Spacewalk
I was out there
with the flag
and the mission instructions
for the EVA
on my sleeve
but I fell behind schedule
caught by the blue arc
of sky and ocean
against the black
a hurricane-stirred
cappuccino cloud
covered the Gulf of Mexico
except for the transparent
flea of the Florida peninsula
even the small
drops of ice
from the coolant tank
formed perfect worlds
and I thought
of Trey’s letter
from the 365 US Marine
helicopter squadron
a fortnight spent cleaning the aircraft
cleaning weapons
watching dolphins and gulls
chase the ship
days spent writing letters
thinking of Mary Jane
listening to the Shirelles
thinking of home
then back ashore to the hot tent city
of the Da Nang airbase
the talk of operation
Rolling Thunder
towns with colonnades
balustrades
overlooking wide
rain-soaked boulevards
that could be Louisiana!
Just think now
the space
between Hanoi and New Orleans
would be how many
arc minutes
measured by the fingers
of my outspread hand?
***
Harvey’s notes on the poem: I was thinking of Ed White, the first American to walk in space in 1965, and I imagined that he had a relative called Trey who might be in serving Vietnam. So I actually did a fair amount of research for the poem finding out which forces might be in Vietnam at the time–I even read some soldiers letters from 1965. ‘EVA’ is the NASA acronym for extra-vehicular activity; a spacewalk. Ed White died tragically in a pre-launch test for the first Apollo mission.
Tim says: This is one of my favourite poems from Harvey Molloy’s first collection, Moonshot. I like the way in which what appears to be a casual reminiscence by the narrator is shaped into a powerful and effective poem. I was 7 when Ed White died, but I was already fascinated by the US space programme – I would have been fascinated by the Russian space programme if I had known more about it – and uneasily aware of the Vietnam War. This poem effortlessly carries me back to those days. Thank you, Harvey!
You can find all the Tuesday Poems on the Tuesday Poem blog.