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Hauraki

I came to the Plains from the rolling North,

on foot, bare-knuckling 

 

the North-West Wind.

I was rifted like the land,

 

an alluvial cloak worn on

my sandstone bones.

 

At the heel of the Plains

my peat-heavy feet

 

stopped.

Here is a wet land, worn

 

by rivers and won by

drains. Flat and fertile.

 

I stand above the Plains

on a heathered hill, the mud

 

on my Red Band boots

clotting.

Previously published in Hamilton Poetry Day Friday 22 August 2014 & Ngā Kupu Waikato: an anthology of Waikato poetry

Jac Jenkins

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