Poetry

Over the fence

the bush
wasn’t filled with dragons,
knights, princesses
or giants.

matter-of-factly empty
& nothing else.

a creek
with big dark eels,
but no taniwha I remember
(or ones I could write about
now).

just gorse
moving up the hill,
puriri trees, rotting leaves,
a graveyard, at least
far enough away

so that to get there
was an adventure.

 

Published in Takahe, Winter 2011.

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