River Run

In smaller days and darkness
I’d rise and run away,
race Maui to the verge
of civilised life.

The feet slapping racket
roused the dogs and dozing houses
’till the grass hushed
green my tender soles.

I’d scorch a fresh wound
through the soft skinned field,
like a ball of hot skittering solder
rolling down down down
to the silver river veins
running breathless
through a palm full of trees.

The river was a rock
and a cave and a home
where I bathed
in the litter
of the sun,

and shimmied the timbre
of a nor’west sigh,
nested high in the bough
of a breeze.

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