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

Drifting Threshold

A doorway stands at the throat of the world.
Pulsing light dazzles the upper half
            gloom blackens the bottom.
Are rapture and misery so side-by-side?

a ball of moon is indented with potholes
from when it was still malleable
and rolled across a gravel night.
Then the zenith blasted the sky into soot.

A grey patch coughs
a dull glow around the night’s orb.
            If I tip-toe and stretch my bones across the sea
            I can almost pluck it from the sky.

the veins of the sea froths as its pelt ripples —
ocean tongues hunt in packs —
they ride onto the shore to lick my feet
then ebb back to circle the doorway
never drifting me with them
to the ever-turning wheel of life and death.

            They tease me.
            They torment me.    

For there,
across the world
stands my silhouette