ManaiaBernadette Hall
i.
how she climbs the ladder constantly with pruning shears
and falls into the arms of the trees so tears
arise in the soft fabric of her skin they crust and darken
they clench their teeth and the marvellous body heals
ii.
lying face down on the operating table her legs clamped
apart the sheet has slipped a bit and the nurse pulls it up
see, there’s the rose tear (the Virgin in a halo of lights
beyond the window) ((the night fills up with it))
her legs parted like that with metal clamps the bruising that arises
iii.
the old skin blows out it may not be strong enough
to hold the story the little teeth of the tattooist’s instrument
nip and bite soon there’s a trench she lays
her children down in it she lays her husband down in it
she lays her sisters down in it and her mother
who has died and her father who has died and her brother
she lays the estuary down in it and two black swans
she lays an Irish brooch down in it and a Ngai Tahu manaia
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