Zealandia

wedged between two chests of drawers, I sit
bereft, a rākau stripped of leaves
long before autumn

I perceive this safe-haven like a child, hidden
and most of the time it’s akin to being dead,
although my eyes are lit and

my manawa beats its familiar rhythm
suicide bereavement has made me bulletproof,
and this fucking pandemic is a lightweight

compared to the absence of you, beautiful boy
we’ve become tūī on opposite sides
of a steep gully, unable to cross the divide

and while nothing can rescue me from this
my broken heart is gently stroked
by the lilt of your generous song

Te Reo Māori words: rākau: tree, manawa: heart, tūi: native bird

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