pidgin peace meal by Iain Britton

the man

in feathers

shuts his eyes          squats

amongst jacaranda fallout

drinks cold tea /

forgets to speak up /        as if his beginning

had its faults in a syllabic nod

in the screwed-up mechanism of a missing tomorrow

#

he spills daylight

steps on bones

washes his feet / my feet

blackens my shoes / whitens my face

for the photographer
at the gate

#

I tick all the right boxes

check names              tickets      

the red and blue ribbons
the winners of categories

I cross out others          with heads tucked into chests

convinced every fast-food supper is their last /  every scrap of blue sky/
field of lupins /    every girl washed by the sea /       

#

the man

paints a tree

a hot pool of mud

a gap where  molecules breed


he pushes me into blurred possibilities

where cargo-cult customers line up

to dismember old myths


flying nuns grab at wasted prayers

the city

exists

on the edge of a steaming oven


I read a book

see for myself how characters are hung out to dry

and how they live


the heat
is in the language
in the breathing fragments

#

my favourite pastime

is watching my neighbour

through a hole in the fence

dance       birdlike

into a thanksgiving heap


he offers cold tea

to whoever he thinks is thirsty

whoever’s hungry


he speaks to a snapshot

a face in a face

he’s cracked and marred

by three score years

of  sucking

on the smell

of an oily rag


he lives in a drought-stricken room

shifts occasionally

a collage of grafted hybrids

sends out mixed signals

of what branch

what fruit

what tugs the belly


why wait for this flawed human product

to track amongst last year’s residue



I bypass today’s callers

meeting outside



staring in

                                                       Editor: Orchid Tierney

Born and educated in Palmerston North, and now teaching in Auckland, Iain Britton is a prolific poet of work with (what I consider) a philosophical-real world engagement. His debut collection, Hauled Head First Into A Leviathan, was published by the esteemed Cinnamon Press in 2008, followed by Liquefaction (Interactive Publications, 2009), Cravings (Oystercatcher Press, 2009) and Punctuated Experimental (Kilmog Press, 2010).

Iain's work is published with permission.

Orchid Tierney is a New Zealand poet who runs Rem Magazine: a NZ Journal of Experimental Writing, and was involved with the Mapping Me anthology of women's writing, although her primary focus at the moment is trying to secure a placement in an MA programme. Visit her at www.orchidtierney.com. 


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