Sometimes, I walk rooms of that

house in half-light. In

museums the mind makes


nothing moves behind glass;

installations sleep, frozen actors

playing nothing to startle


anyone. Tiny boy dreaming, a wee

wooden cot, couple watching

TV; sparse furnishings speak of


souls gone cold; if I try hard

moments flare – my muscles taut,

still thirty, making wooden runes

from scavenged kauri or


Sam amid the orange tree

Einstein hair, pukunui in a pale

blue t-shirt,


promise of a smile

– but Maungawhau is best left



why summon its dead fire?





3 thoughts on “Maungawhau

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s