you knew something about this,
come, gently and sit on my knee
ten pearls playing cards
it was the small ones who held up the house
here, your hand, then your hair in my hands
the house crumbling around your bed
your strong people burst into frail pieces
after this, then calm - Brutus, Ben….
the bulbs, Milford Sound and Port Douglas
you know what i miss? your handwriting
i wish you would write this poem out for me
in your round purl like your accent.
i can hear you from just around the corner
our Queen is here, in long and black, tortoiseshell mourning
now - how important it is to remember, i see every part of her saying
but there are pieces of you -
like you burst into very small pieces
sometimes i think you are here, like i can see into Heaven,
or Heaven has come down to me.
we sang Ka Waiata for you
we knew you could hear us.