INTERVIEW WITH A POEM: ‘Night Shift 1’ (1970)

Night-Shift 1

I get up at 4.00pm
& buy a cheese
3 tomatoes, an orange, & a tin of fruit juice
as usual;
also a paper.
I return to the kitchen
& put 2 tomatoes in the fridge for midnight,
cut off a piece of cheese
& put the rest in the fridge,
also for midnight;
then I open the tin of fruit juice,
two triangular holes neatly opposite each other;
I wish I had had time to put it too in the fridge to cool.
When I come to sit down at the table
I find Kathryn is reading my newspaper.
I eat the tomato, the piece of cheese & the orange;
also I drink the tin of fruit juice.
I feel I need some exercise,
So I go for a walk as the sun goes down.

Murray Edmond
from Entering the Eye, Caveman Press, 1973
First publication of this poem was in Landfall 98, June 1971, pp.122-123 (lovely cover by Pat Hanly – please note, Landfall then cost $1.00!).

Interviewer: Today we are speaking with a poem, which hasn’t been seen for many years, but has been reprinted here today. I began by asking the poem how it persuaded the poet to get re-printed:

Poem: Truth to tell, I didn’t even recognize the old bugger, it’s been so long.

Interviewer: So, did you get in contact . . . I mean, was it you who approached him?

Poem: Pure coincidence. I was on my way down to the mall. I work down there, back of the supermarket. Opening boxes all night. It’s a job. I usually stop off at the local – have a beer and a falafel. I took a short cut down a street I’d never been before. I’ve completely lost contact over the years. Once you’re written, that’s it. Most of them don’t give a monkey’s after that.  They go off and they write different kinds of poems. But we’re pretty stuck as we are. As we were, so to speak.

Interviewer: So, what happened?

Poem: This old guy was mowing the berm. Pushing an old hand mower. I walked right past him. He’d looked up and caught my eye. I thought: why is he looking at me like that? I’d gone about twenty paces further on, and I stopped. It was him.

Interviewer: So, did you say hullo?

Poem: I turned back and had a second look. It was him all right. We were staring at each other. Just staring like. Then we both pretended not to know. He was the first to break. He put his head down and started pushing the mower like fury.

Interviewer: So, nothing happened.

Poem: It had been too long. Like seeing an old lover across the street.

Interviewer: When I read you, I don’t see much love in you.

Poem: I like to think I’m a love poem.

Interviewer: Really?

Poem: True.

Interviewer: How do you work that out?

Poem: I don’t. It’s what I am.

Interviewer: I don’t see it. Who’s the lucky . . . whoever?

Poem: Not that kind of love. All youse interview bods are the same. Love! For the fucking world. And all its shit. The sun, the cheese, the fridge, the tin of juice, the fucking orange, bro!

Interviewer: Do you call that love?

Poem: I call it love. What do you call it?  Sorry! “We ask the questions”. Mind you, maybe you’re a bit right. Turned out we had the same girlfriend once. That was a bit odd. I’d forgotten all about her. I wanted to ask him ask: Where is she now? But I didn’t.

Interviewer: Was that Kathryn?

Poem: Kathryn?

Interviewer: In the poem. You should know: “I find Kathryn is reading my newspaper.”

Poem: Oh, Kathryn! No, no.

Interviewer: So, who was Kathryn?

Poem: She’s still there. She’s in the poem. She’s reading the newspaper.

Interviewer: Are you just making this up?

Poem: No, no. Cross my heart. Well, yeah. I guess. I’m aware that I’m just made up. “Every time I wake up, I’m putting on my make-up . . . “ Don’t look so worried, bro. Aretha Franklin!  I’m not ‘making up’ to you. Swear. One thing I am proud of is my semi-colons. Did you notice? Didn’t think so. And did you notice the lack of pull-tabs back then? Do your homework. Thing is I’ve worked night shift for years. They say it stuffs your health. Stuffs your . . . what’s it called? Psyche? Is that the word?

Interviewer: You’re the poem. You should know.

Poem: Tell me: how do you get a job like yours?

Murray Edmond: born Kirikiriroa 1949; lives in Glen Eden, Tāmaki-makau-rau. Recent publications: Time to Make a Song and Dance: Cultural Revolt in Auckland in the 1960s (Atuanui Press,  2021) – cultural history; FARCE and Sandbank Sonnets: A Memoir, (Compound Press, 2022) – 2 books of poems; Aucklanders (Lasavia, 2023), a book of 15 short stories.