For Hape



Ages after I left your house and the lawn where it had all taken place
I dreamed about her, e Hape.

her karanga strong

her hands ā wiri
She waved me through the running kids – one looked like you, past

the upturned washing basket,

the whistling kettle,

the dripping vase,

the scattered scones,

the shattered bread plate

the melting butter

the missing knife
to where she lay.

the side of her face tilted just so.

eyes like a taxidermy rabbit.

her mouth in a fixed O.
that’s when I yowled
for her, for you, for those here, those yet to be

for an unwanted inheritance

for the telling that only ever ends this way
as my anguish fell upon your kuia

she let it

a month, a week, a year, a century, a moment                                                                                  later
I

stood 
refreshed the flowers

re-bake dscones

re-filledthe kettle

re-fol ded the washing
gathered                                you      held tight

kissed                                     you      wiped away

urged                                     you      kia kaha
all the while looking out

all the while looking out

all the while looking out
auē e Hape
very time I go past your house now

her karanga strong

her hands ā wiri
she waves me on