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Jac Jenkins
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
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