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south

Brian Potiki


with old pals
some with dicey tickers
and the sweet herb smell
on my fingers
&
before kaikoura
a restless milky-blue sea
&
abiding stink of
sea-wrack,
i watch the rivers stretch away
like maps of death:
i jump into them
yell! & splash!
i drink them
&
mimi spills out
onto hard earth
of
south

 


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