Category: Poetry

By Pat Bunkerbowry

Back in New Zealand we
hold a ceremony for my niece.

The kowhai tree was already
planted –
nevermind.

Oh, and
her
placenta was kept in an old ice cream container –
but,
nevermind.

She was grizzly,
and I searched up a poem on the internet,
tidied up the Google Translation from the Māori,
mistranslated a few bits on purpose,
tucking the gendered language out of sight (no respect) –
nevermind.

My brother didn’t dig the hole,
my sister-in-law wore her old
Florence and the Machine t-shirt.

Lungs.

The waves crash over the road.

Next week, the air will be thick with smoke.
Next year, the very air will burn.
Next decade

-nevermind.

Hine-te-iwaiwa hangs above us,
her belly round, her basket overflowing, her hands deftly weaving
threads

that are not ours.

We borrow her, this goddess.
We borrow my niece.
We borrow the whenua.
And we give it back, softened, crumpled.