Viewport width =
March 5, 2018 | by  | in Arts Poetry |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Lion’s Teeth

Nobody has ever said

I would like to grow up

to one day be a bureaucrat.

 

Or a sinecure; listless

at a desk in the afternoon

staring at immigrant landscapers

 

from an office window

like they are flowers

in a garden, wet with sweat

 

from guarding the marigolds

against imperialist insects,

moving across the tableau,

 

the manicured lawns of America

like checkers on a board

only ever vaguely aware

 

there’s a sycophant who sits

and watches them pull at weeds

while he himself feels stuck

 

like a staple in a stack

of papers—sifting through time

sheets and blank accounts

 

receivables, waiting for someone

to come and pluck him out

of his hole like a dandelion

 

and help him remember when,

wiping his brow against the sun

and waiting on a gust of wind

 

he would hold the stem,

and watch each seed

blowing slowly away

 

one by one,

until he was left

with nothing.

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. You Are Not Your Illness
  2. Let Me at The Bachelor, and Other Shit Chat
  3. Lost in the Sauce – Avo-no you didn’t
  4. Mauri Ora – Winter’s Comin’
  5. Token Cripple – How To Survive Your First Year at University (with a disabled twist!)
  6. Dream Diagnosis – Fire in Wellington
  7. Liquid Knowledge – Animal farts and performative veganism
  8. One Ocean
  9. Uni Council Corner
  10. Dylan Horrocks gets new job

Editor's Pick

He Tāonga

:   I wanted to write this piece, in order to connect to all tauira within the University, with the hope that we can all remind ourselves that we are a part of an environment which is valuable, no matter our culture, our beliefs or our skin colour. The ultimate purpose of this