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Alistair Wisker

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Legend

It was a hot day to fly
but we had a legend to meet.
Finn MacCool asked why

why choose I, then basked
in the homage of our reply.
- Broke eggs in a tarmacadam pan

he observed of our landing
on his unique coastal shelf.
This description took place

while the sun made obvious
the boast of Cool’s living hair
displayed like Antrim as most itself.

- Put that handbook away
he said with a smile
- writers, the real ones, don’t tour

so let’s explore
he crooned - look
and simply like rejoice.

It was an historic voice, a call.
- The thing about visiting such a place
he continued much enjoined

selecting his words from so many
- the thing about this he gestured
adjusting his shades

the better to suit his eyes is
that it makes a legend more
far more possible to imagine.

Adapting the shape of the scene
was easily done now we had met him.
Easy too to forget his glory

call him Cool as he had proposed
at the outset of our encounter so long before.
He was no more nor less than a legend.

He was a concoction,
a unique blend of history and fact
stirred by fiction.

So we said hello to a giant
with a hand in building a causeway -
his route from County Antrim to Scotland

to settle an old score.
A more strange introduction
it is difficult to imagine.

Genius playing his pipe organ
up in the hills one minute
ordinary on the shoreline the next:

yet he seemed a typical man
adjusting his name the waves
and the sun, the better to suit his tan.

 

Page(s) 58-59

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