Joshua Toumu’a
WILD GEESE BY MARY OLIVER BY HERA LINDSAY BIRD BY REBECCA HAWKES BY JOSHUA TOUMU’A
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to acculturate for flocks of migratory birds.
You do not have to be excellent
before you can be seen.
You have never had to walk upon your knees
across a hundred miles of coral reefs repenting
to unravel your skin
like an apple peel.
O, if only this body were temporary
to come to the end of a trial period.
To be struck down dead
and be reborn into a perfect V
flying south for the winter.
You have never needed to cut through the air by yourself.
Your flight paths are well beaten.
You find the air
slipstreamed for you.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
If only it could be that pretty.
O, the things I would do
for the answer to be that pretty.
Alas, the soft animal of my body is no longer soft.
What is left of it loves what it must.
Tell me about despair, yours
and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile, the world offers itself unto you.
The prairies, the deep trees
the mountains and the rivers.
O, what I would give to know
belonging without my skin
tied to me like sennit
without append.
O, what I would give
for the world to unfurl itself for me
and announce my place in the family of things.
Summer
Summer rips strips of / the new year and / tucks it into her feathers like / a lovebird. I stick promises / of a better year through / the bars and she / pulls them delicately apart. / I remember when / life was easier; / the novelty party glasses / used the zeros as eyeholes / and we could pick / the breadfruit from our tree fresh. We / reminisce together.
Summer writes to me / on the weekends / about her week & / life as a bird of paradise. / I ask her to specify / whether she is the flower / or the bird / and to this she takes / great offence (as she should. / I know much better now). / She promised / one day she would / fly far from here. / I promised I’d / be there to / watch the plane / take off. She / found that funny.
Summer has only gotten warmer / over the years and / I don’t think she / has noticed yet. She / tells tales of her burger flipping / day job and her acceptance / into culinary school. I’m proud of her, but / I know deep down / she is drowning in a way / no one could ever relate to.
Summer was accepted / in after a couple months / wait. I always like to / imagine it is a talent of hers / to skip middle stages. / Sublimation, solid / to gas, egg to / parrot, girl to woman, / winter to Summer. Every / Christmas, she preens her winter / coat and delicately / pulls out strips of / the old year.
Joshua Toumu’a is a high school student living in Te Whanganui-a-Tara. He is the winner of the 2022 Schools Poetry Award, and his work has been published on The Spinoff. He also collects really cool rocks which he thinks is very important to mention.