Light Trespass by Nathan Penlington - shortfuse

Light Trespass by Nathan Penlington

Light Trespass by Nathan Penlington

I am the tactician

and have plotted carefully cross hatched on squared paper,

removed from my maths book centre,

the position of every lamppost in our street.

Three compass drawn circles

spaced neatly at 2cm intervals

surround each one marking the area of:

the brightest light;

the approximate edge of shadow;

and the estimated mean of torch range,

calculated after we carry out an extensive test.

Standing in a line facing the British Legion wall

we replace the weak batteries with new ones, turn them on

and walk backwards

stopping when our ever increasing circles

no longer illuminate the grey concrete.

I am stopped nearest the wall,

the hand dynamo torch

I’ve borrowed from my brother

who 'forgot' to return it to the Scout leader

after summer camp

is good for short bursts

but hurts your hand over a long period.

Nicky hasn’t got a torch but has brought his Viewmaster™ projector.

On first try, the large image of Popeye

although impressive, isn’t bright enough,

but with the cartridge removed

and a hand covering the slot

the ability to focus the beam

more than makes up for it.

The best torch is Chelty’s.

He can cross the road and further

if it wasn’t for the load-bay of the old dairy

blocking his backwards footsteps.

He doesn’t say where he got it,

and we don’t ask him.

The particular lamppost has been selected for three key reasons:

a) Its sensitivity - it is always the last on and the first to turn itself off.

b) Its isolation - it is sandwiched between two others with blown bulbs.

c) Its proximity to the trees on the traffic island and the fact that, if given a choice, dogs prefer to urinate on nature than street furniture.

On the arranged night

we meet straight after tea,

breath hanging in chipbutty clouds

in the lightly smoked air.

torches - check

batteries -check

dark clothes – check

tin foil – check

It is hard to tell exactly where the sensor is

but we know it is not within the range of the nearest circle,

and so to increase the effectiveness of our plan

we spread a roll of tin foil shiny side up

to cover as much of the ground

with reflectiveness as we can.

Foil spread, we take our positions.

Me on the gatepost of the For Sale house

adjacent to the lamppost

functioning as short support bursts of light

and as lookout.

Nicky stands on the wall

focusing his beam

with facescrewed intensity of purpose and illumination.

While Chelty takes position

towards the top of the traffic island tree

transforming himself into a lighthouse

a warning to passing cars of its concrete perimeter.

A count of              one                two               three

torch flashes from me and we begin,

Chelty and Nicky direct their beams

to the top of the lamppost.

In the confusion of the first burst of light

the bulb flickers.

I squeeze my torch

as hard and as fast as I can

and send my beam skittering

up the post to meet theirs.

Through the concentration

I can hear in the silence of the light

the buzz of electricity and anticipation

another flicker

we hold our beams steady for another 30

                                                       40

                                                       50 seconds

                                                       then darkness.

For a moment,

through our beams of light

joined at the summit,

glittering down from the night sky

the stars shine brighter,

a ray of starlight arrives

tired after a thousand year journey

illuminates us with some difficulty,

and for nine seconds

Chelty, Nicky and I

feel the enormity of the universe

and our place within it.

© Nathan Penlington

3.4.06 16:11

Permalink

To date 1 Comment(s) TrackBack-URL

Martin Thornton / Website (30.11.06 08:26)
This is a really great poem - so much going on here, I love it.