'We were pale once as clothing or net fish-
mobile, typed, drying on lines like
Calder as warily we circled or sailed..
but it's my fortune you chose to anchor here.
Mahia town passes away
but every dried, warping house has its datepalm,
and ours, S, is bursting the weatherboards..
these six days on Blacks Reef have sprung me.
.. your ship's naked, nosing under the huge tableland,
vanishing into the bright bluff and bay, crying out,
the way you cry out, heard across the water,
when Willy comes home on the sea..
there I court about your body and body's front,
whales lollop and spout about us. '