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  Journal » Trout 11 » From Where I Stand [Diana Bridge]
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From where I stand

Diana Bridge


1
A shag parts the rock
and becomes its skewed finial.

There is the clutter of driftwood all over
the shore. A few bulky women

prodding in pools for kina,
their crumpled hair trailing the wind.

A truck sprays the scene with ochre dust
but before I have rounded

the point, one of the endless points,
the sea returns it.


2
Picking up paua shells,
skimming stones, the skin on my palms

toughens. The waves float the line
of an upturned roof

onto the rocks; trading in pattern
detached from its past

for this circle of sand, heaped
driftwood, a backing

of scored hills,
the blue plate of the sea

 


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