The Right Whale to talk to
When Tiwai Smelter finally closes:
A giant data center could land there,
on the back of a Hokioi.
Hokioi is the innocent one.
He’s flown in from the 7th Heaven,
just for the opening night.
The men will unload themselves, slide
down one feather at a time. Washing away
sin stirring ants, their hair will be stroked with oil free,
cyanide free, paua gel.
The next day consultations will begin
first with the wandering Weka,
who have not been sighted here for decades.
The partnership plan will take 3 days, but
If there is food in it for them, it could stretch out for 3 months.
It would be opportune to plant pellets, of quiet speak into little holes,
analyse their tongues and translate to
possessives and pronouns, with haste
inject into the Official Information Act and act like you know
it’s all ok, just because it is
and other poisons have been here forever, and never
ever killed a single fly.
From consultation and partnerships, Tarata could bloom.
We could sell that too. Make a sultry billion,
on the lining of French underwear.
After translations have passed the water bearers, they could stimulate
the machinery of corporate activity, activating waves
upon despondent nerve endings, that shimmy across the Strait.
Consult with the devil. See if he is willing to part with his horns.
Consult with the winds, see if they could dance elsewhere.
Investigate the soul of cyanide, it’s not so bad
it naturally occurs in almonds, yes that’s what they told me.
When Tiwai Smelter finally closes:
The mice in the council tower could gather in a blue lit alley.
Feast on the Tuatapere Sausage and narrow wedges of dairy full cheese.
Devour red liquid; potentially Pinot noir, rat blood or cranberry juice.
That’s not the point here; the point is to trust your leaders and not tire
yourself of critical thought or the need to contribute to the community.
Stand at the point of no return, Warrior
and there will be no need to worry anymore.
When the madness of navigation depletes us
we will wait, rest and wait some more.
When the last koru on the waka is carved,
the sky settlement can read it backwards
Ki Te Upoko O Te Moana
The Southern Right Whale.
Yes, He is the right one to speak with!
Him and that code breaker beak, can crack the tides
to tell the truth and you can trust the tides
to keep rolling in, the sea to rise insistently
to meet our will power and all the right choices
and all the fragmented hopes will rise to be tested
and then Hokioi, who will fly, shimmering
across Foveaux Strait, in his glimmering feathered, sunlit suit.
Ariana Sutton (Kai Tahu/Kati Mamoe/Waitaha/Rapuwai) first published in Melbourne’s Work and Tumble and has several poems in journals throughout Aotearoa. She was awarded winner of the 2020 Dan Davin Literary Award and is currently a mentee on the New Zealand Society of Authors Programme.