Bio note: I currently work at Massey University. I only write poetry when depressed.
My other interests include philosophy, science, martial arts and goats. Goats are nature’s gentlemen. It’s hard to be depressed around goats.
"Boo" is about the effect of first impressions on relationships.
"Bruise" is about the strange treasure often found at the bottom of the pit of despair.
Boo
I was conceived suddenly,
Shockingly.
Quickened in adrenaline,
First felt as a sinking in the pit, a rushing away,
A numbing wash of amniotic dread.
On my birth day
I was cut from an exhausted womb,
Crushed,
Early,
Whisked away sight unseen,
Incubated,
Isolated,
Bottle-fed in shifts by strangers.
She mourned for three days.
They smiled, shook their heads and told her I was beautiful,
So she assumed the worst.
When we finally met, she cried, counted my fingers and toes and tried to change her mind.
Bruise
There is a great, grey bruise worm in the sky.
Its breath turns the blue to ice,
The light to shocked illumination.
A long chill shadow heralds its silent approach.
I stand transfixed,
Eyes locked in recognition
Of its whispered grief.
It works its immensity above
My patch of paradise,
An insubstantial mass that numbs
And whispers.
I feel the first few tears fall,
Tasting of nothing.
There's a hiss and sting of hail
In the second sob
And an edgeless moan that cuts
With hints of whitened rage.
A low howl dams up more than it delivers
And in that perfect moment,
Just before the crack,
It sings.
