Poem 106

In ’87 and ’88 I settled into a job sorting mail in Private Boxes in Waterloo Quay on the 6am-10am shift in order to support myself doing theatre and writing poetry … I saw a lot of sunrises …
… this is is not dissimilar to a poem Michele wrote about Wellington – though she never saw this one …

( I like coverlet edge of bay and harangues of high gulls … )

Daylight Moon

Out on the sea the soft old dawn
comes back shoes in hand
folds back the coverlet edge of bay
and gets into bed
with Wellington
                  whose roller blind eyes
straight away fly up
who leans out and splashes cold water on herself
whose hair teases out in harangues of high gulls
whose heart beats into the first trolleybus
pumping up Willis St

she flexes her cable car
brings her blood in from the extremities
out of its soft nighttime pools
she grins her capped teeth into a new mirror
the moon pops up from Mt. Crawford
like a bicep