Under water the pockmarked face of a boulder will soften
into international measures. Cobbles the size of a human child
will melt, in time, into pebbles the profile of a sparrow’s egg.
We walk the long estuary where the semi-enclosed body of water
mingles in layers of lucid gold and milk. Your face is costal
as your eyes map the hills and fallows of the track
before your feet. Our conversation slips like lumbering cattle,
the ground we cover immeasurably diluted by the last
week of storms. You are three hundred days of rain. When we reach
a fairway I tell you, without metaphor, how the saltwater mingles
with the lighter freshwater into a zone where water erodes
water. In the sun the tidal action of swell and deflation unsettles
the bed of the inlet. That is to say, I speak only of the sea.

‘Addis Ababa in Best New Zealand Poems 2015
‘Running with my Father’ in Sport 42
‘Mountains’ in Best New Zealand Poems 2012
‘Dennis Dowthitt’ in Best New Zealand Poems 2010
‘The Drop Distance’ in Best New Zealand Poems 2007
‘Rescue Story’ and two other poems in Segue 11: Fall 2013 (US)
‘The Geographer’ in Sport 39
‘The Holiday’ in Sport 38
‘Measures’ and three other poems in in Trout 17
‘Christmas’ and two other poems in Turbine 2013
‘The Forest’ and ‘Embossed’ in Turbine 2009
‘When the Sister Walks on Tuesday Poem