Do not step into the altrical room behind
the shining voice of the Tui in the Puriri,
on this side of my head you can see the forgotten
horizon where I developed my young sperm,
where I exchanged the barren bicycle for the uprooted
rimu. The restless god watching the years.
I who desire to touch your head
to understand why blood is in my dreams,
where saliva moistens flowers that grow on your hands,
frightening the animals feeling a strange burnt land,
tired of looking for someone now I'm returning
to the violent earth. I now know that we have
betrayed another, where the sun sets and traps hiapo
uniting angels of the soil and the sky.
From 100 Love Poems (Earl of Seacliff, 2005)
© John Pule
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