Crossing the Kaimais

Two poems by Michael Hall

Teeming rain -

The wipers reveal

a few dreaming

Pongas -

And then

the road again

Down far below


is the Waikato.

And that

is where I turn

turn, and returning


And eventually

the highway

evens up into

a wet world of paddocks

and a tin barn

in early evening -

of childhood.

But also a love

come too late.

And somewhere

out there

toward Matamata


a light goes on.

Advice to Daughter Astronauts

Take care with the words

out there. Your lives

are yet to be discovered.

The Earth still turns

the sun will flare, and things

must still hunt and hurt.

On the space station

the liquid air is recycled:

it should be safe there

while just below, our world

twists with hurricanes

and continents burn dirt.

On one of the far moons

of Jupiter you may find snow.

Let it kiss your spacemasks

and remind you of me.

Oh, I wish I could walk and

talk space with you, all

solar day, my daughters.

But that is for you to find out.

I leave only this old coat of words.

Michael Hall lives in Dunedin. Recent poems of his have appeared in The Spinoff and Queens Quarterly (Canada). Two previous poems of his have appeared in Milly Magazine