Tuesday Poem: Redpoll


looking for glass on the seal I saw you
smacked from the air and left to die

a bloodied head beside the road
a traveller sharing the fate of many

on my palm you were my child
quivering newborn still alive

your feather cloak your korowai your closing eye
not yet dead not long alive my charge my quiet despair

I know the blood that smeared your brow
the violent red the tranquil stroke the genius hue

warm on my glove my hand that held your breast
laid you beneath a shrub on a leaf mould bed

near my end one day like you
come come feather my nest

Tuesday Poem


About paparoa

Writer and researcher.
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4 Responses to Tuesday Poem: Redpoll

  1. I like this poem, particularly the way the words travel – you’ve created a lot of momentum through the poem and it never gets sentimental.

  2. Harvey McQueen says:

    I emphasize with this one

  3. These words speak to so much (so many?) more than the redpoll.
    They made my heart twist, Jeffrey – which is not at all a bad thing.
    Thank you.

    • paparoa says:

      Thanks Claire, and Harvey and Kathleen – I’m a bit pressed for time to read all the other poems right now, travelling and renovating. Cheers.

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