Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Tag Archive for ‘childhood’

A sluggish morning

My day begins as usual, woken by click-clacking tracks as the 6.56 from Paraparaumu passes. I can hear birds in the garden bed below my bedroom window. They’re scratching at the mulch, uprooting the seedlings I planted yesterday. I’d thought of protecting them, placing sticks and weaving cotton thread strung with milk bottle tops, as my mother used to do. But milk doesn’t come in bottles any more; there are […]

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A wanderer returns

Lichen patches and rust almost erase my family name from the kerosene can letterbox.   Rata twines around the gate, kikuyu fingers stretch and join across the track.   The milking shed, roof broken by a weight of stars, crouches sway-backed against the sky.   Moonlight fills its windows, spills through gap-toothed walls, lies in lozenges along the grass.   Creamy fog pours down the creek, circles the swamp, backs […]

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If

You were the footnote to afternoons in high summer and I thought of you as a limp breeze bumped sponges of air through the window screen, coating my skin with heat. You were the asterisk to my youth (*deceased), whispered asides, never direct conversations (*they’re too young to understand). I wrote you a letter on an old computer in DOS, as if eight years hadn’t passed since we sat in […]

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