Surveillance
the lino lined up
and the squares were horizontal with the windows
a glasshouse of sorts
the fifties furniture sat where it was placed
in black and white
she is typing on the deck
I’m in shorts
he must have taken the picture
later I will slide down the deck banister fly off
hit my head hard on the end and
be taken for stitches to the doctor who used to live opposite
and whose son put my cat upside down in a woollen hat
she is slicing vegetables
he has the evening paper
the clink of glass, pouring liquid
another glass
he is waiting for dinner he wants it now
at the table
my brother and I eat fast ‘sit up straight’
‘answer me’ ‘don’t talk with your mouth full’
in my bedroom the polka dot wallpaper swarms off the wall
a noise repeats and repeats in my head
the bedcovers rise higher and higher in waves
in the dark there is a man on the deck with a knife
or is he inside I must be very quiet
and then it is morning and winter and there is ice on the puddles in the valley
I walk to school and cut through the property at the bottom of the hill
the windows are
watching me
and there is sea and harbour and Rangitoto
not offering any solutions
that quiet volcano
A year on a Whitireia writing course in 1999 helped Jenny Clay’s poetry out of boxes and into a more public arena, leading to her first poetry collection Take a Leap. Her favourite foods include snapper, carrot cake and sorbet; and hot soup with her poetry feedback group.
