new zealand electronic poetry centre

Leigh Davis


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The whale in the late sea turned gold off its back-
like the land he saw
turning still in the afternoon-
scrub cattle stepping on the wet pas..
in a silent way it was with them drying as the weather cleared,
south of a sea with eyes that in the distance
grew blinding, bridging canals with light over brown water.
.. los decamisados, senor, Willy's with the shirtless ones..
taught better by the weather still he falls,
a fisher on the beaches where he wakes,
storm past, codeless and nameless
in the way they've always been together,
their first beauty..

Senor, your sun touches us with light.

 


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Last updated 4 October, 2009