Tigers at Awhitu (2010)
Snow
It was as the snow started falling
that she blurted it out, so they were all
just standing there gazing up, knee-deep
in snow, the little one thigh-deep,
when they heard it, the news that slipped
out like a necklace from a sleeve,
not meant for the kids, not meant for here,
for the snowwoman with her pink hat
and old carrot nose, for the creaking
pines, the cracked plastic sled, the neat
rabbit tracks that shied all over the white
field. So they stood there, the little one
lost in any case in this too-white world,
his too-cold hands stiff in his wet wool
gloves, his feet stuck somewhere
miles down below. And once it was out
she wished she could call it back in,
like a dog you could whistle to,
but it wouldn’t, you couldn’t,
so they stood there in the snow,
and the big one asked, of course,
‘what’s that?’ and his dad just looked
straight back at her, his clove-brown eyes
soft with fear, the hound’s sour breath
hot on the nape of his neck.
Gleam (2013)
Birdsong
if I cry like a bird,
listen for the pain
inside the pleasure,
if I shout out your name,
look for the dust
on the contours of my breath,
if I call you my lover,
turn your face away
and feel the air supple on your skin,
the sun lingering
on the back of your neck,
if I say I will live
for a thousand years,
dig your feet in deep
and stand your ground,
if I move over you
like the gentlest of weathers,
look out to the water
and offer yourself
to the gods of the outgoing
and incoming tides,
and if, after all,
when the world
starts to stray from me,
like a grazing animal,
nonchalant, diverted,
frayed rope trailing,
if you are still here
and still listening,
then, if you can
sing to me