Birdpeoples make it to Te Rangi-i-Totongia-a-Tamatekapua - Carin Smeaton

david blaine where r u now  cos i havent seen u since the symonds street off-ramp  where i showed u a card trick or two  &  u recommended youtube  talking bout friction  levitating us back into the 90s   our tūrangawaewae our stomping-ground bridge  it was still open-access  back then  barrier free from glass fast   & escape was way easy    or at least inevitable   visible to the naked eye  an express flight to rangitoto  4 hauraki-healing  if u made it that far  (& not all bird-peoples did)  tho when we did  we all got the same dead gorgeous view  same as any prophet who got lured away  from her exodus hell   by such dazzling balancing-acts  stretchin it out     til kingdom come    & that is how u take yr mind off an emergency  says david blaine on grafton bridge  u dont see the drop  see the vision  the mission of possibility  a future on valium vs a life at the lights  stuck on red  in the rain   when u cross david blaine   he got a way of possessing u  watching u he’ll tap on yr window wit his deck o split spades he’ll take it away  bleed into the fluorescent night of moon    where my birdwoman once flew  my rona in blu   rising above rangitoto

Lucky Country - Carin Smeaton

she’s not entirely alone   she still got the lorikeets outside in the flowering elms chattering away at 40 degrees waiting for the rain  and judy & john hav been trying take her mind off things  they go on and on til sundown bout refugees and free social services   let the floodgates open they mock then sigh how can they hold their head high when they get nuthin but a clit kiwi pension they go  it’s not fair in australia  but she just bites her lip and swallows it dry like a griffins wine-biscuit theyr no socialists not like poppy  he’d give em an earful if he was here in mind

good thing her bp’s low  so low sometimes she think the lorikeets cud pretty much carry her away outta this world into the next whenever they wanted wit nuffink but a molecule noticing her shadow on the ground da sky spinnin around she misses the rain she still loves a good stiff gin  but not as much as how she loved poppy wen he was a dirty old man wit an enormous atomic cock   he’d grab her ass in light n dark ( in the days wen he knew where he was)

life’s for the living (siale says siale knows) but it dont need no reason  jus oxygen and a host of its own  to grow like the tomatoes on the road sproutin up out of concrete cracks commando where her & poppy go walking most days he’s most lucid first light but it’s uphill from there and it’s thumbs down for respite  cos  he dont wanna go the parrots tell her so he only wants to be wit her & no one else will do

now she wears the crimson streak of a lorikeet lighting its way across her skin   watching her cross the street everyday  everyone knows everyone sees where his nails hav been  stuck into her gin n tonic hit wrists (cos he dont wanna lose her when the sky finally folds) squeezin  the veins of her lov 4 him   how she hates the smell of old man he used to taste of nectar she says but now he smells of old vegetable she mutters of curses n mothballs medicated sweat and broccoli  

Contributor's Note

Carin lives in Tamaki Makaurau with her children Yuga and Kazma. Her first book Tales of the Waihorotiu was published in 2017 by Titus.


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