an Aotearoa poetry journal | ISSN 2744-3248

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Tarot #01

First Light

Drunk again and alone
listening to Warren Zevon on
a tinny transistor gifted by the previous cadaver
a slither of a 9-volt battery life
keeps me alive.

The moon has turned
all the clouds
into white whales thrashing
through the upturned sea

that pours through cracks
fills in spaces shifting parables
a piano solo like footsteps
on shingle disappears into mountains
after fire, after rain, after you left.

Another cigarette
            another shot
                        another song
                                    another line
                                                another hour

Memories run in veins along the grain
of the knotted macrocarpa floors
how your face is distorted
your eyes the colour of wind
your mouth a blood orange
fallen from a tree in Madrid.

If you placed two lines
of poetry in a forest
and if I walked forever
through kauri and kahikatea trees

my feet rotting into earth
my hair a knitted garment
for an empty body
I may, eventually, find the note
and read those lines that say
how much how very much
you loved me. Once.