Saturday, September 02, 2006

Another Wellington Poem

Southerlies Again

A Taniwha takes on its wind form
and stampedes in from the south
races through Berhampore and
crashes into the side of our villa on
this ridge where our heads try to sleep.

I think about Dorothy but Hamish
says this house has been here for
ninety years and will outlast us yet.

The retaining wall below us
leans peering down towards
Macallister Park. We
joke if this house slides
down the hill we will simply build
an ecohouse over the ruins
but in winter as others, less stubborn,
slide off piles beneath sodden slips
downwards motion loses its humour.

I remember clinging to our bed at 2am
during a 6.4, wondering whether this was
the big one. Hamish woke to my
swearing, dreaming cats were chasing
birds squawking on the roof.

I want to see this house turn
100, if only I could feel
we were permanent here in this city
where gravity has such a
fickle humour.

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