Tremble, Fling

rain on the apron
tremble, fling
the quiet peeling away
of inessentials

Tina the hostess
who looks Japanese
asks me to move
to the emergency row –

the Bollywood film crew
don’t speak English
I saw them in Cashel Street
last month, dancing

at 10,000 feet
we eat Marmite scrolls
and coffee on a lime green TABLEMAT
tripling as handtowel and trash bag

there are stepped pyramids
outside Auckland City
I don’t even know what’s going on
with that

a turbulence of rainbows
a miracle of clouds
how can it be the air itself
is strong enough

to hold me?


One Response to “Tremble, Fling”

  1. W. Says:

    A miracle indeed!

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