it’s steep
from here on
rock
tree
ocean

that one
pohutukawa
holding out on
rock against the
sight of ocean
in its branches
vivid in shadow
against the
wind-flustered
sea
cat’s-paws
swells
the surf
feeding on
the silence
between
its comings &
goings

you could drop
right through
this to fall
into the cold
roilings of the
tide find
yourself at
the edge
of memory
a spit of sand
long each
grain a colour
of things known
of dawns in
the hands
of love
stars going
out on the
breeze

you could drop
right through
this skin
that sky
on edge
where the sea
tips over
drop through
the distance
to where
the last rocks
norwest
are clotted
against the
tidal rips
anchored out
in sheer memory
of our having
been

you could drop
right through
the twisting heart
of the waters
below the undertow
of kelp taking
you down in
the murk
of this
life as it
comes away
from your
self the tern
pitched sharp
down into
the waves
closing the hunt
on the fish
underneath
the silver
leaves of
our days

you could
drop right
through

*meaning ‘the leaping place of the spirits’, the place in the Maori world where the souls of the dead take leave of Aotearoa

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