Wednesday Busk

    • Wednesday To Come

      Published on April 5, 2023

      Kia ora koutou, aroha mai — this is the last Busk. My eyesight is getting
      worse, my eyes get sore and tired so I have to be selective. I have a few other
      things I want to write and work on so while I’m still going to be writing in the
      mornings, reading/researching in the afternoons, making cheese scones (who
      cares if they’re shaped a bit wonky?) and meeting some of you at readings
      and workshops, I will not be producing the Busk.

      Thanks to all my readers. Special thanks to Miriam. You are all stars.

      Here is my poem Tiger Country.

      Tiger Country

      You plunge off the cliff into Tiger Country
      sleek and smiling tigers play hide and seek
      slope around abandoned chairs, sad tables
      silk cushions call encouragement from the sofa
      an old painting turns its face to the wall.

      Tigers lurk in old cards, beneath yours forever
      snooze under Christmas lights that never worked
      lope ahead to a destination only they know
      signposts are suspect; there is no tunnel, no light
      nobody pins a tail on these tigers.

      Some nights after the sun has flamed
      and seabirds search the pastures of the sea
      tigers come out and lean gentle over your chair —
      wrap you in a striped shawl of sturdy warmth
      fold their paws and purr soft in the silent room.

      This is the danger time. Stand up. Walk slow.
      Their eyes are on the game and you’re it.