My fire love

i remember you that day, with knitted brow.

like my in-progress sweater, that has turned twice into a mobius strip


me, puppy exhausted, 

had nothing more in me to explain


now you,

necklaces,  sea-green and rings, red

you find what is good and beautiful and hold it out in your painted hands


look at her—my Mahuika


you would like this—

mum poured the ash from the fire on her garden

wood and fire, she said

i said, everything is burning

they said, this reaches every one of your organs


it will be some time before we can put our hands in the cave of each others’ hips

and a while before i won’t remember

any of this