Tuesday poem: june by Hinemoana Baker

(for bubby)

The staff breathe in
and out with us.

The pink curtains
deflate. Her eyelashes

are sparse and moist
on the seam of the lid.

Her eyes move under there
quick as fish.


Back home the limes
dry in our bowl.

The soft tower of sheets
in our airing cupboard

settles, the bedroom curtains
drawn by someone else –

the cat-feeder.
our hanging

paper lanterns sway
as she walks

under them.


In this dark room something
makes something else beep.

The mattress releases its slow
slow air. We wait for the horse

and trap inside the tumour
to collect her, carry her out

past the gate and off
to the fair.

From  Koiwi Koiwi (page 39-40) by Hinemoana Baker
Published by Victoria University Press
Used with the permission of Victoria University Press
This poem is published as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme


2 thoughts on “Tuesday poem: june by Hinemoana Baker

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