Carlotta’s Song

Carlotta’s Song

Our naked voices will grow silent –
swallowed whole by a periwinkle sky.
Our hands without word of a lie
on tangled flesh – a chorus in bloom
over cool hilltop grass far strewn;
far from scars beyond this island.

Isn’t it queer – your humid vowels
breathing down my neck like rain;
like warm showers that come again.
As if this thing – more than desire –
could melt shadows like an open fire;
night’s chill wrapped in white towels.

And what of secrets on a jaded slope:
honeydew & small manuka flowers
in lieu of words & disappearing hours,
scribbled down – hidden from sight
within arm’s reach of incessant light;
scorched pages curling like smoke.

©️Orion Foote

Note: An imagining or dream sequence of Katherine and Maata Mahupuku alone together – or together alone – high on a hilltop overlooking a bay near Wellington harbour one afternoon c.1904. The form is inspired by the poem ‘Secret Flowers’ (1919) from KM’s journal.

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