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LexiconI’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 aroha 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 |
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