It is as though,
everything
that you see,
takes a piece away
as it gives back
an experience.
The exchange
would have to be
precise or you
would wear out
very quickly.
But that bay and
that island
tore big chunks off me
which is something
I am just
now realising
as oil threatens them.
The mind picture for
my first good poem
came from there so
I count myself
ahead in the deal.
Although to think of them
choked and dead is
cold lead
in the stomach.
So I have the poem
and the worry
and the love.
3 comments:
Sounds like our Gulf of Mexico. But I guess you reference something closer to home?
~
Yeah, here is the map.
http://www.wises.co.nz/l/Omaio/#c/-37.787759/177.654365/17/
You have to go to the right to see the island. It's a special place for me, but I didn't realise quite how special until the oil and containers started washing up there.
Sorry, that map reference is right on the island. The bay is to the left there.
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