Liam Hinton
an-odúne
when we were done you let me lay
my head on your lap
stroke my hair
and we’d breathe
that weird pleasure
of occupying the same space
i sang night channels to you
and you told me
how when the cctv building came down
you were in the business district
with your heart
digging girls who looked like you
out from beneath
the rubble
the air felt bruised
i think you said
you still see those girls
sometimes apparently
they say
they are glad to be
alive
i wish i had asked
about it more
*
sometimes you hurt
real bad
theres a pinhole smile
below
your belly button
i rub my fingers over it
like it’s a topographical map
feel it
like a question
then look at you wince as if
my eyes were coffee table corners
you banged your knees
on
i said i was sorry once
not for anything particular just for you
having to go through whatever it was
we take codeine
together
like i used to at athletics day
listen to the music we lost our virginities to
then you lift your sundress over
your hips
that night when we sleep
i hold you all small
while you burn
holes
through the mattress
the next morning you tell
me we shouldn’t do this
again
but we do
once
or twice
*
there’s a coconut-in-bath-water kinda smell
i watch the water lap
away
at the marks on your thighs
you used to hate
them
you like them now
say they make you look like a tiger
yours are white barely visible
unless the skin is taut
mine were red
you tell me all about this steroid cream
that i still use
i message way after
it’s all over
to say
thanks
that they’ve calmed down finally
you say no worries xoXox
*
the last time i see you
you’re leaving
we hug
i taste this lonely taste in
your perfume
beg for a few
more
minutes
you have to
go
you didn’t bring money for food
i offer to cook something
or pay
tell you how i’d always forget to eat
when i was with you
Liam Hinton is a Hamilton-based poet and graduate of Waikato University's Master's of Professional Writing programme. He has had work published in Mayhem as well as Poetry NZ's 2021 Yearbook.