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Monday, Lyttelton

benign buzz-cut hills, crater

rim, turquoise sea

shining, our limbs jasmine

stroked on white

sheets sun-dried     jandal

flip flop the only

sound below hillside

hedge, which I hacked


for the view;

sun’s fingers lingered

in McCahon dark sky


Tuesday, did not come

like a train roaring

through front sash windows,

it was a sudden

crack       open; snapping

teeth on boulder-rolled

hills, hole-­punched homes knife

sliced, cross-section, red

brick intestines, dry

retched tears, dust blood in

silent       mocking rain


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