hotere

once
i sat beneath aramoana
in an audience

and the base creaked
and people stepped
and wildly the panels swung
corrugated iron, a kiwi’s dream
i foresaw my literary career
cut short
by another’s artistry

and those panels
on another day
wit and wonder
you had kofi’s back
perhaps you and mr holmes
will again shake on it now

playing with light
i know some have stood there
in your circle
in front of your fault lines
and they say they don’t know your work
they have walked among it

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