‘the mist that obscures’

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Dear Ranginui.

I heard that the mist is

your tears mourning separation

over aeons from your lover – Papa.

It’s a comological story

And yet still you shower us with your heart

I hear the tangi across St Lukes

when you send a river

like Tāhū-o-te-rangi

across the sky?

You are the painter that rides the clouds with prussian blue

and with one calligraphic stroke

throws cadmium white into the air.

talcum brush


kohukohu ‘mist’ –

as if

to break the silence

and to announce

yours is the better korowai for Papa.

better than the concrete shroud

the blanket of tar sporting


arrows and lines

letters and hieroglyphics

three tall pylons,

and a couple of billboards

that quietly inject steel legs

into the skin

of the local carpark.