new zealand electronic poetry centre

Leigh Davis


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slightly inflamed nose, stubble that itches,
tightening lips and facial skin..
985 mbs is an intense low south of Stewart Island,
but elusive.. killing time in a Mahia dream
of hammerheads and stiff shiny sea
before surf breaks on Blacks Reef..
all night in the fresh southerlies we pilot our nylon tent
by the white moon, uneasy steerage on the coast..

I walk in the spinifex and maram before dawn
when the sky is bloody orange in the west over Hawke Bay..
all night you lie a small sloop off the coast..
Auckland and Nuhaka are asleep - in the campbed
I sail to you.. any day now
I will arise and go back to my wife.

 


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Last updated 4 October, 2009