an Aotearoa poetry journal | ISSN 2744-3248

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Tarot #07
Tarot #06
Tarot #05
Tarot #04
Tarot #03
Tarot #02
Tarot #01


A blush over bleached hills
And charcoaled rocks
Who smudge their shadows across the water
That weeps as it takes
What has been left.

Sea to the west
Where it shouldn’t be
For now, the water will run
Down the left side of my face
And the salt will sting my cheeks
And poison my eyes red.

The left side is the best side
And the right side is wrong.

The sky is sometimes the only thing that feels right,
It bawls colour over a world
That is always in the grey.

And when time steals your youth away
Like the thieving tide
That rids the sand of shells,
It is the clouds that swathe your
Hands and keep them warm.

But when the sky falls,
Shatters glass-like
Upon the rocks,
What do we do then?

We collect the shards
That cut our feet
And tie them with a black-and-white ribbon
That’s fraying at the ends.

Because what better gift than the sky?