MICHAEL HALL

 

New Doubtland

 
I used to wear childhood 
as if it was 1979, 
uncertainty hanging awkwardly 
like a small yellow raincoat 
 
from the cloak room hook; 
a mini series about the Holocaust 
was on TV; music had gone disco; 
the decade like the sky dripping 
 
onto the wooden floor. 
I wrote a story about our futures. 
I wrote that some days the clouds 
wore dark aprons across the plain 
 
like farmers, standing at evening, hosing 
down the emptied yards, dreaming 
they were loose forwards in the rain. 
I wrote that the sheds 
 
looked like distant solar systems. I wrote 
that I dreamt our hearts would descend 
like spaceships in the dark. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Hall has been published in NZ and international journals, including LandfallMeanjin, and Queens Quarterly. He lives in Dunedin.