I wanna put you in space 
really huge like ‘God’ 
and then go live with you when I die like ‘Heaven’ 
and no one else can come live with you when you are God 
it’s only allowed to be you and me up in space 
when we are dead 
you will be God and I will be God too 
and no one else is invited to heaven 
we can stare at each other 
you’ll sit on Neptune 
and I’ll sit on Jupiter 
we’ll be giants playing God 
we’ll be dead 




We drive up to Pukeko on her back on Poplar Ave 
with her legs batting the air which is nothing 
like the ground and frantic wing-swooshing is fruitless. 
Desperate Pukeko doesn’t want to die, me neither Pukeko. 

Pukeko’s boyfriend is panicking 
at the grass-edge, they are yelling 
to one another, oh no, oh no! Something 
terrible has happened! Oh, oh, oh! 

Dad stops the car and is getting out. 
Elise and I watch Dad walk over to Pukeko thrashing 
in the road and Pukeko is so unhappy and very 
unready to die and Pukeko is mad can’t even think 

Dad puts his big calm hand on Pukeko’s tummy. 
Pukeko stops thrashing, oh, I think Dad can probably 
feel her heart go, a bit slower, a bit slower. 
Dad carries Pukeko to the grass-edge, stroking 

her feathers with his big sad hand, holds her 
carefully like a baby, never looks away. 
He puts her on the grass next to her boyfriend 
who is going, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, 

stepping towards her body on his big deliberate legs 
sort of saying, no, no, no, no, where are you going, can I 
come too, Pukeko is saying, sorry, baby, sorry, no. 
Dad is walking back to the car now, really slow. 


Poem About Both of Us


You have these little nubs of bone 
on the tops of your shoulders they always 
make me think you are in danger the way 
they announce their vulnerability 
but you go around anyway you go outside 
and I think you are so brave. 

There is a piece of your body that 
appears when you are sleeping it 
is between your spine and shoulder blade 
it is a patch of skin that gives a bit 
so I can put the side of my face in it 
and that’s one of the softest parts of you. 

On one side of your face the hairs grow 
in a spiral pattern and I always get 
especially amazed by their quiet announcement 
that says what a piece of nature you are. 

The end of your thumb is blunt and 
your nail ends before your thumb does 
and that is different to what mine 
does and I think it’s important 
to notice the small ways in which 
we may distinguish ourselves 
from one another. 



Freya Sadgrove writes poems about Callum, her family, her sadness, and her discomfort with gods. She completed an MA in Creative Writing at the IIML in 2014.