new zealand electronic poetry centre


David Ingram

Fugacity 05
Online Poetry Anthology


Whoomff . . . the bloody idiot
Whoomff . . . the bloody idiot nearly
took my ear off, plummeting
out of control, how it missed
the boat I don't know, a great splash
beside me, gone before I got a good
look. Like a magician it was, here
one moment, gone the next, back
all wet, a bloody great fish in its beak,
just flew off without saying
anything . . . . . that's Gannets for you.

In the Café, Ponsonby Road

My mouth sups
from the bowl of coffee,
my fork hovers  above the carrot cake, imitating

the hawk's beak,
and my inner eye remembers the yellow lines, centred
on the road, and the sign asserting

that speed kills.  I see the white horse, knee-deep
in grass and dandelions,
unaware of the ducks, decaying  

among flies and maggots, unmoved
at the sound of wings, the shadow  
hovering above bones, the feathers
crushed along the tarmac. 

In the café, my companion asks
quietly, if she may scavenge
from my plate.

Last updated 25 April, 2005-->