One of My Baxter Poems
(from Moth Hour)
Coming down off the spine of the Botanical Gardens
onto the green flank of the dragon, shadows arch
under my feet. In the dell below, the shell-shaped stage
is strewn with red Camelias. November
and across the valley on the dense dark Tinakori hill
houses begin to light up like Guy Fawkes.
At the top of Patanga Crescent the pared-down villa
trembles with young men thinking,
pens lost in the wide sleeves of their dead uncles.
They are ecstatic and do everything extravagantly
in the last light: read, drink, fuck.
On the windowsill – a stone, leaf, a twig with buds,
and the black cat left behind mewling by the old lady
now in the Home of Compassion. No change.
Anne Kennedy’s new novel The Ice Shelf is due from VUP in October. She teaches writing at Manukau Institute of Technology.