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Pippi Jean

Internet Friend


here is my space

acres and acres of it down to the ocean

nettled with small patters of sheep

fields dyed dark dying amber

blanket fuzz of dust in the air

lisp of light at the the twin peaks of Taranga Island
fantails slinging through scrub

i remember those peaks from year 8 camp
as crayon scratches at the sunset

early moon in the late blue

electric fence rattle-spark bug-sting
bug-sting
the creek we haven’t found, roaring bug-sting

frail
scrape        castles built of water towers
of divining rods water tanks and flowers
road grown in dry grass

first star
the dark,

the cold.

  my cold. my dark.
do you see it? i give you all of this:

i give you our newslady ringing tinny across the valley &
disappearing into the bush

the third to last time i ever see her


spools of yellow markings like
rubber bands are tied to the hall floor
tightening the space between us

to only two yellow lines

my heart is a hollow lake
beating with the arms of swimmers
drowning in my jersey

she is looking straight ahead

a shimmer in my peripheral
knock of pencil and wolf-quiet
when we were younger we—

the exam will begin in one minute

—we would tie kitchen string between our hands
and tell each other stories
tap, tap, tap, ​think

all those words are nowhere now

war-sword slashes on paper
she is fixed on the square of the hall door
fierce scuff of light and loudness

i am counting down the seconds

scratching at the days
until i stop writing and look up and she’s—


Pippi Jean is more often found writing than handing in her latest school assignment. Her work can be found in Signals and on the National Schools Poetry website (and possibly on social media in future if she gets herself sorted). Yes, she’s named after Longstocking.