Henrietta Bollinger
This world
Cut the globe in half what you are left with
will look like that slip of moon out my window.
hello
where are you?
My small typed words &
your instant reply:
a picture of the cobblestone
square you are standing in.
Morning foot traffic moves past &
we both stare for a while.
This world is unintelligible to me.
In your daylight I can forget my moon but still
it tugs my heart – where are you? – in rhythmic strokes:
hoe, hoe, hoea rā. I can almost taste the salt.
Relative proportions
I know we’ve escaped because
there are more stars in this place
so I tell you all about light years:
how when I first heard about them
I was small and I felt smaller
and I’ve grown a little taller since then
but not as much as I like to pretend
I have.
And I rush past people to make sure
that they don’t notice.
Henrietta Bollinger is an intentional poet/playwright and an accidental sociologist – sometimes the other way around. She lives in Wellington.