which one was my favourite?
there was kickback from the rifle aimed at cans of spaghetti
which set my last good ear reluctantly ringing, but organs
grumbled on, oblivious, dedicated to their business
then, a bowstring chipped along a forearm, the obvious
smarting blush of focus lost – that’s all – just a rash
to impress upon oneself the importance of accuracy
how about the satisfaction of bowling
straight and spinning, after three wides?
even the llamas seemed to sense that
otherwise, catching the hawk
making hot circles in the haze before braking hard
in the macrocarpa – the host will copy her later and almost
clip a concrete wall, prompting a brief vision of a herniated
ute smoking in the darkness – but we kept
to our seats and let him turn up his dust – no, hey, I know
the sheep started to seem familiar – pumping
panic, split up, sorted, all of us
watching the same pink pair of shorts
thinking the shade had lost its cool and comfort
wondering how high one would jump
and if the gate could be cleared
Claudia Jardine is a poet and musician who has recently returned to Ōtautahi. A selection of her poetry was published in AUP’s New Poets 7 alongside the work of Rhys Feeney and Ria Masae. More of her work can be found in Starling, Sport, Stasis and on her bandcamp webpage.