Poem 234

I’m in my sunporch in Hataitai, black night outside the windows, branches scraping the weatherboards …

Tapu

The island is coming to my door
the burial island from deep tapu Green Lake
is standing walking to the shore
up the slippery shining poles of trees
radiating whitely into the water

the island is coming south
passing old mountains in the dark
a skull of pumice behind the shaggy overgrown face
a few choked caves enough for eyes
and a mouth
it passes under the wires linking pylons
on the Desert Road great stopped walkers themselves
it comes
and scratches against the windows

           these trees caught in my hair …

pines

           they grip me in my head
           they loosen my teeth

don't screech like that against the house
I always treated you with respect never fished or swam
in your water never rowed out to you scavenging
for bones

           but on the shore one afternoon you and your girlfriend
           all but did it eh?
           frustrating for us both

go home
the pines pinning you are too deep to be splintered off
already their roots are growing 
through your old bones

a blown out breath dank fern root
scours every nerve

             funny
             me aching under all these new green needles
             you lying awake
             here
             still afraid of me