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

The fang has found the helpless flesh

Great golden gourds
you pick among the bruised stone fruit
with juices leaking onto plastic
i’m coming up with more and more creative ways to contact you.

I’ll speak your name three times into my dirty laundry
& you’ll hear my voice coming from yours.
From beaches to hollow peaks,
reach wildly, tearing out lichens and scrub

the fang has found the helpless flesh
the feathered form slumps in a death rattle
faces frozen in uncanny snarls
meat sluicing from bone with a wet chewing sound.

a basket of rotting figs on your doorstep
a fish on ice speaks
what was it all for?
milky eyes staring at the fluorescent lights.