HINEMOANA BAKER

 

Fossiliferous

 
The smell in the elevator is incense in the morning, aftershave in the afternoon. This
golden stand of skyscrapers, says the Grandfather, wasn’t always here. The one called
Mantra, he fell in love with the tallest lady over there, on the far side. But she was
already betrothed to the big grey fulla on the right. She didn’t know the grey was a thief
and a liar, that he’d already killed, and eaten the eyes and brains of, his first wife and
his mother-in-law. 
 
Kore-rawa already knows the rest of the story, how the birds intervene, drag Mantra
from the Coast so he can at least see his lady-love forever. Probably that’s how the
river was made. Then just as the wedding’s about to take place the bride’s three
strapping cousins arrive with weapons and old jealousies, step between the betrothed
just as the sun rises and they’re all frozen there. She says the words to this day. 
 
No, says the Grandfather. His laugh is ground crickets and sprinklers. Not even close. 
 

On the day of the 40th Anniversary of the First Moonwalk

 
She wants to join me on the sad canoe, paddles making fire in our shoulders. Or
maybe, like Waitaha, bugger the canoe — we’ll travel on the bargeboards of our
meeting house. When we reach an island we can’t be bothered paddling round we’ll
split it with the fire sirens inside us, Kia matata! The island will break its heart, the sea
will rise up in front of us. You shall be known as Kore-rawa, says the sea. Nothing-
nothing, Never-never. 
 
The next day Nothing-nothing wakes me with a cup of tea. Happy anniversary! she
says. 
 

Bio-mineralised

 
Girls in small pink shorts cartwheel across the screen. The note pinned to the white,
wooden crucifix says, Look I’m not much of a drinker, I just picked up some beer for
the boys. In the corner of the urupā, a bronze sculpture, molasses and sulphur in the
sunlight. The evening releases its fruitbats. 
 
The next day Kore-rawa walks to the yoga class, songs on her hips, the Oxford
Dictionary definition of democracy chalked on the footpath. Make sure your back is
upright, says the yoga teacher, and your tray table is folded away. 
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hinemoana Baker (Ngāti Raukawa, Ngāti Toa Rangatira, Te Āti Awa, Kāi Tahu, Ngāti Kiritea — England, Bavaria) is a writer, musician, producer and teacher of creative writing. Hinemoana‘s first poetry collection, mātuhi | needle (2004), was co-published in New Zealand by Victoria University Press and in the US by Perceval Press. 2010will see the release of her second collection kōiwi kōiwi. The two poems published here are part of a series called The Adventures of Kore-rawa on the Moon, written while she was based in Brisbane as 2009 Arts Queensland Poet in Residence. Find out more at www.hinemoana.co.nz. Hinemoana would like to acknowledge Arts Queensland, Queensland Writers Centre, Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Artsand Queensland Poetry Festival.

 

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