i.

thick grey planks worn and cracked
stained with fish guts and oil,
water puckers around the piles
of the old wharf

like the black-backed gull
you came to see the catch
smell the salt and view the crossing

ii.

ferry me over
this harbour where I learnt to swim

water lapping at the boards, boards, boards
and on the other side
the earth waits like an open mouth

the Whitianga estuary flows blue and green
carries the depths that arise in us
we sing your song fearlessly

throw a rimu leaf on my casket
with your blessing each spiny twig
helps take me home

as you walk the gravel path back to the river
my folks will see me coming from far away

Sue Peachey

 

Poetry, permaculture and pottery are the preoccupations of Peachey. Sue lives in Canberra and is from New Zealand. She has published previously in Cordite, Westerly, Not Very Quiet, Eucalypt, Haibun Today and Kokako.

© 2019