Poem 56

Murder of a young girl too close to home … local (Rotorua) horror under cover of darkness … the crime scene visited by teens on a Saturday night years later … making for uneasy sleepers and realisation of a sense of security lost somewhere back there …

Rest Stop

I dream you stab me to death
but I never die
in dreams

we leave the car
where we used to frighten each other
out on the murderous
highway
         walking toward the trees
we were drunk and stupid here
when we were fifteen
when we visited the scene
of the murder through boredom
through lack of anywhere
else

now the black seething stretch
of road returns
the rest stop that lies nowhere
fields that belong to a man
with a shotgun
and no head
we step across the rubbish
of everything done where no one
can see
         or recognise
up against the black
black line of trees
you turn

I think you're going to kiss me