I am a lookout,
a code breaker,
a liar
a loser
Light picks out a back garden
stars guard the yellow climber,
old quince, fruit green-scented
waits for an outstretched hand.
Moreporks measure nights
Light finds seven heavy stones in a circle,
fortified henge against old wives’ tales —
a pebble held firm in the mouth
makes pain lie down and doze by the fire.
Piwakawaka measure time
At the end of the light when words are lost
the stones turn away from the mouth,
the flower, the tree, return to their river bed,
taking all comfort with them for their own.
Renée
