Bernadette Hall

SINGALONG

so,
you thought you’d be set up
in next to no time

                            au contraire,
‘the new land’ continues to elude
like blue-eyed eels in the river

                 ‘the new land’ ripens
like a bridegroom, like a bride

you take her in, you place
your hand on his murdered flesh
                  you are full of murmurs

*

you want to take her home
         you want to keep her warm

you want to sit her down
         by the fire
                    of bombed out cities

lying on the marble floor,
          playing the didjeridoo,

she will be able to be
          your little acclimatised owl

                   tu whit tu whoo!

this is the song
          of your original sins:

the albatross around your neck
                     the botched document

hello, kia ora!
this is a message from New Zealand!

From Settler Dreaming, Wellington:   Victoria UP, 2001
© Bernadette Hall
 

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Last updated 25 March, 2005