New Zealand Listener – August 24, 2019

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The School of Naps

BY ERIK KENNEDY

A nap on the farm was as common as a two-headed sheep.

This is why Meredith never learned to nap.

I, on the other hand, was encouraged to dream whenever

I wanted. In naps or in nap-like afternoons I smothered

in imagination. An only child is the parent of its parents,

a dictator with a small bedroom. I guess they had coherence,

those days in the close suburban yards and modest shrubberies

when I imposed my will on my impractical, summery

family. I’ve always had trouble getting things done since.

I seem to be walking along a floor mounted on springs.

When you’re happy you have a responsibility to those who are unhappy

to do your best with it. Even if it ends badly.

Most of my choices are bad and good interspersed,

like wearing a motorcycle helmet while riding a horse.

A rise of starlings

BY HELEN HEATH

Orion loosens his belt

in our own night sky. You

have drawn new maps

across the darkness, through

wild celestial fields, tracing

messages to me in particles

of dust and light. You never

lived with restraint, so

the gentle artfulness with

which you left gave fresh

freight to my heart, lending

my gait a new lopsidedness.

I am a rise of starlings,

can you catch me in your coat?

This way of leaving aches,

this black night, into which

I must send you out in the longboat

of your body, seems endless.

Watching the Boys Play Rugby

BY TAYI TIBBLE

like flies swarming

in black tidal pools or

a milky way of sluts in short

shorts and long socks, Catholic

schoolboys teasing each other

in the scrum. Bull-headed matadors

depending on the score. The music

of bones in their noses all smashed

and spitty like pop rock candy.

Make a pit-stop at the dairy,

buy a scoop of chips to throw

at the seagulls who can’t be scared off,

red-eyed demons watching

the boys play rugby. Eat too much or

not enough. Throats dry but mouths

open and over-glossed

when the game is over, and the boys

come orbiting the car

with pale moon faces, either

luminous or crumbling.

Evenflow

BY THERESE LLOYD

I dreamt about Eddie Vedder

again last night—

this morning, my God, such a spring in my step!

Eddie and I went for a walk down the beach

the tide was out

and although I can’t be certain

I think we were in an earthly paradise

He sang to me and I listened and smiled

I was 16 and my 41 year old knees

did nothing but bend as they should

and the beach didn’t end

and the vortex became visible as a solid

and I sidestepped it

and viewed it from every angle

and the stroke forming in my brain

turned into an ampersand

& Eddie and I are still walking

Celebrating National Poetry Day 2019

Phantom Billstickers National Poetry Day is August 23 and will feature 150 activities

throughout New Zealand in a programme of poetry slams and rap, open-mic and spoken

word performances, pop-up events, book launches and readings. For the full calendar go to

tinyurl.com/NZLpoetryday

A rise of starlings is from the collection Are Friends Electric?,

which won the Peter and Mary Biggs Poetry Prize at the

Ockham NZ Book Awards 2019. The other poems are

from collections that were shortlisted for the prize.