new zealand electronic poetry centre

A L I S O N   H U N T


I’m a poet only
once a year
so here
don’t listen to
what I say
but what I mean
somehow that’s poetry, and
cast for brons and company
the atua dance
light on pavlova
chocolate kisses for the birthday girl
sweets from the arms of the tipuna
from Bessie’s arms
the southernmost reaches out to us
the stories rich
with paua pickle spiced
salt red flesh preserved
titi plucked from the nest
we weep for our lady of sorrows
and the child lost underground
in a northern summer
the timing’s wrong
the seeds of the fruit on her tongue
the vessel of grief
the wine’s not dry but sweet
cold beer jugged for the man from Twizel
Tusiata brings out the diva
for all of us
and the Canes go down without Conrad
in the dark thump of the bay view
our wake is earnest with mollymawks
albatross cut from around our necks
rising from mussel shell litter
our kuia sings to us
tremolo a fibrillation of my heart
under the rain on the roof
that we buy bottled
there’s Rakiura in the jar
if it’s Irish it has to be Jameson’s
and we have proof
we are the thirsty land
and hungry too
bacon floating on the wharf
English breakfast and
zee coffee puddles
apples and cheese sliced on leather
cores weka pecked on salt-and-pepper sands
wild fuschias pink in Lisa’s hands
blue cod battered hot
oysters fat in oily wellage
a little flounder in the south
it’s classic
why can’t this be our groundhog day?
we six fly north
eggs in a shell
ducking in the Bluff hill gust
give me your cold , you warm me so

Bluff 06

Last updated 28 April, 2006