clamp down on the hairless men
who’ve chased the wild geese
into some kind of
native aquarium, we’re not
going to swim for you.
we’re preoccupied with
our ahi kā we’re playing for
keeps,
we know the ropes.
cos we’ve already braided
them back
to te kore, to te pō
to every pūkana hī
pūkana hā we’ve always been—
conducting these maunga
in energy,
in piupiu and petticoat
and island frequencies.
it’s not brain surgery
it’s just you settlers,
making your bed, saying
look how pretty all that
danger is.
it’s just us, doing
exactly what we wanna
flying the lasso
like a flag.
it’s just all this bouncing
straight up to those stars
has got us
licking, spitting
opening wide;
big enough that the enemy
may enter,
bad enough to
know when to bite down.
Featured image supplied.
