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ROB HACK

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Roosters

 

My bro’s are over from WA

for the Tawa College reunion.

Flash hire car, flash motel.

We drink and we drink. It’s all good.

Mining pays well. There’s work on they say.

I tell them about my poetry

the slow process of writing

of looking for inspiration.

I hand them a folio of poems,

ones about Raro, Niue, family stuff.

Show them a couple they might like,

leave the table so I won’t hover.

Hearing words I turn back from the bench

one is shaking his head, tapping a photo

on the back of the paper the other holds up.

‘Did those fuckin’ Warriors lose again?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Who’d they play?’

‘Roosters mate.’

 

 

 

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