He Leaves Her To Put Everything Away

In her haze she gathers up her arms and legs
repositions the roses embroidered on black lace

slides her hands into wet rubber gloves
and once again gets on with the dishes.

Fuzz

              (for Janet Frame)

My hair grows up instead of down
it is said of me
the town of Wyndham calls me thief
though I never meant to be
my school tunic blossoms muddy roses
my stockings grow patchwork vines
these are imprints from milking cows
the realities of not enough
the marks of not fitting in

this is where I build my looney world
on the outskirts of popularity
my Kingdom by the sea
I lift a pocket mirror and look back
at a world made strange in reflection
I see the workings of poetry
the places overlooked by noise
I open myself and become the Amber Butterfly
the teacher's pet, the pick of the week
and without realising, the dirty poet.