I have something wonderful inside,
waiting to be said. It has not been easy.
Spanish guitar, cake design, lyrics for lullabies.
I really shine at nothing.
It needs to come smoother than this –
the way water flowing through wood
would feel, if you put a hand to it.
in the Sunday paper. Immediately I knew
this was the kind of beauty I would aim for.
Something that makes normal people
feel worse about their lives.
but now you just do it – who cares?
but you do have a job.
you’re not really fussed.
even though they know
they needn’t bother asking –
there’s something different
you might not be packing
but you know where the guns are.
The Feathered Hat
over a qualification in teaching,
because my stringing words together
like a popcorn necklace, doesn’t pay.
Rory tells me an old Chinese proverb:
gets a sore neck
of feathers – a peacock’s brilliant green
with their centred orange suns that dance
as my head moves, like seaweed in a swell,
if only my neck, wrung like a chicken’s who just
will not lay, could hold the darn thing up.
Leaving him free
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Louise Wallace‘s debut collection of poetry, Since June, was published by Victoria University Press in December 2009. She is currently at work on a second collection centred around the loss and preservation of memory, with the assistance of a grant from Creative NZ. Leaving him free and Grindadráp are from a longer series prompted by ideas around how to define ourselves, the need to leave a record, and Wikipedia’s proliferation into our ‘everyday’. These two poems were inspired by the pages ‘John the Baptist’ and ‘Whaling in the Faroe Islands,’ selected using Wikipedia’s ‘random article’ function.