As a follow up to this morning's post here is a mix & mash entry by Maria McMillan:

a voice that’s not the same as hers

Under the trees in Victoria Park certain grasses

bleed. I shave parts of my skull to the scalp.

My old woman loses speech. The morning’s tai chi

moves like seaweed as we move our pockets full

of river rocks and jam jars our house made of bamboo

you fill it up and it fills up and you’ve filled

it up. And there it is. Whole mornings whole.

Afternoons. Cut and grow. Cut and crush.

I had a knife and you had shoulder blades and

a hollow chamber making dream words making

tyre swings and fresh water crabs, crackers and

boiled lollies. We scramble into the goat

cave and sit on wooden beer crates. We stay

until it gets dark. It takes two years. The rain

rattles. I press my ear to the smooth sodden

green turf. The goat shit. I see all this from the link

bus window. You go away and come back

different people. None of the hair I have now

knew you when you still knew me.

There’s a call from home. Shadow stands up.

Uses Helen Lehndorf "Tincture", Ian Wedde, "Shadow Stands Up" and Emma Barnes, "Don't Lean Away"

All made available through Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 New Zealand License.