Prometheus I


I bet Pandora was gutted she got the dunce brother
And not the hunky one with the ideas and the clout and the knack
knack knack

The hope was hers, clinging to her pyxis,
that she’d get a go with forethought

They should have called her Amanda


Prometheus II


Māui gave us fire
He didn’t get his guts picked out over it either
And he sought immortality in a vagina

He crawled right on up there,
He didn’t just stand in a locus amoenus
And throw some seeds around


Paper filter matchstick tar


​Paper filter matchstick tar
I am inhaling my own pyre

Ash in
ash out
Stacks up
stacks out

Pro-drinking-tea-and-driving kids

Stacks in
the ash bin

I am a red chimney, choo



Rose Whitau is a Classics Enthusiast, Minority Princess, and Hard Case Heterosexual. She recently gave up archaeology for community development and is now the regional coordinator for Shooting Stars, a program which uses netball to engage Aboriginal girls in their education. With a penchant for a well-conceived analogy, Rose has been playing with words since she could write; however, these poems are some of the first she has plucked up the courage to submit. She hopes that you enjoy them.