1981
[thinking of Tony Fomison, 1939–1990]
Solely the 2 cops will rememberand they’re not speaking.
‘Transfer off, girl’, one got here at mewhen I obtained between you and his baton.
That they had you throughout the again of a carduring these ridiculous timeswhen streets have been stuffed with bootsgreat coats, shields, helmets and jumbo bins.The Purple Squad screamed spherical in circleslooking for all our world like some weird voodoo ritegone mad in Newmarket.
We have been the identical age however you have been smalland wizened. A boy with an outdated face,seeming at the very least on this scene to wish safety.
I threw myself throughout your bodyhoping to not crush you with my weightand they stopped, not daring fairly to bash upa middle-aged virago articulate with rage.
How did it finish? Did we go off collectively?
I do know I berated Meurant on his Khyber Passcorner taking part in commander. I took photosbut the place are they? I can’t rememberand now neither are you able to.
Maybe there’s a be aware someplace herein a diary or a ebook, a field in a cupboardbut who cares? Who’re wein the confusion of repeated histories?
The fireplace within the cave nonetheless burnsand on the market within the darkness, your facelifted to the evening starsknows ‘the soul is at homein its personal unusual dream’.
Taken with type permission from the lately printed assortment Blue Is a Cracked Vase in Reminiscence by Riemke Ensing (Chilly Hub Press, $33), obtainable in chosen bookstores nationwide. It consists of poems from her earlier three books together with greater than 60 beforehand uncollected poems. Settings and topics embody Muriwai, Otago Harbour, Colin McCahon, and poor outdated Tony Fomison.
