The night I pierced my own belly button by Maria McMillan

Can’t wait to get out

of this hole of a town

she said. For years

we’d been planning

our escape. Had compiled

a list of compulsory

adventures involving

our own brilliant selves

and various disposable

sidekicks in locations

ranging from the giant

aquarium tank in

downtown Monterey

to a moonlit bridge

in Vietnam arched like a

bony cat’s back, to mountains

with names only we knew.

Our mothers, who were sisters,

would look from her to me

and sigh, letting breath out

slowly through the gaps

between their teeth like they’d

been forced to eat something

horrible. Emily

had a blonde bob, perfect

as a politician’s. Eyebrows

plucked exactly so they

lined up with the edges

of her eyes. Skinny.

They kept us close

hoping she would rub off on me.

C’mon, she said, our parents were out

she’d called a taxi. I’ll

do your make-up – like

it was another game or dare,

and when I wouldn't gave me

her practised lopsided smile

like I was a kid putting off

the inevitable. Really,

it’s nothing and left smelling

young and sweet looking

like a favourite daughter.

I was alone. Took

the biggest needle I

could find, poured boiling

water over it. It was

like getting into a

river on a hot day,

the pain, it was like laughing

until you couldn't stop

Everything folded tight

in a moment, hidden

in the seam of a dusty

pocket. Emily. Our mothers

out with their husbands.

Being eleven, being told

why I couldn’t wear shorts.

The bulbous staring eye

of a giant orange fish.

How I’d known

sterilising the needle

wouldn’t stop the pus but

I’d done it anyway.

Editor: Saradha Koirala

The night I pierced my own belly button is from Maria McMillan's much anticipated first collection 'The Rope Walk' published by Seraph Press and is reprinted here with permission. 

I have never pierced my own belly button, but I have definitely laughed until I couldn't stop. What strikes me about this poem is the disconnect between the fantasy of leaving  - "Can’t wait to get out/ of this hole of a town" - and the ultimate desire to be alone. When Emily leaves "smelling/ young and sweet looking/ like a favourite daughter." a space is created for the speaker of the poem to attempt something much more daring. The last lines, "I’d known / sterilising the needle / wouldn’t stop the pus but / I’d done it anyway." is a fantastic ending for this poem and a metaphor I'm left pondering.

Maria has described 'The Rope Walk' as "intergenerational persona poetry sequences that feature aerial performers, 19th century ropemakers and gloomy mountain cribs." Characters reoccur throughout the sequence and a story is woven across generations. The poems are about grieving, moving on and being bound to family and place. The books too are hand-bound - a limited edition of 150 hand-numbered copies - with a letterpress-printed cover designed and printed by Joe Buchanan. It will be launched this weekend.

Maria has studied politics, trained as a librarian and has a long history as an activist. Originally from Christchurch, she now lives in Wellington with her partner and daughters. She blogs at http://mariamcmillan.weebly.com.

Do check out the poems in the sidebar when you've read about Maria and her fine poem.

This week's editor, Saradha Koirala, lives in Wellington and teaches in Porirua. Her second collection of poetry, Tear Water Tea, will be available this month from Steele Roberts Ltd and all good bookshops.