emma daniels
HERRINGBONE
there is the same herringbone design on the roof of the cathedral, and on the paved floor on the street
that dark dutch herringbone
the cut of your jaw is carved into my mind
I look for you everywhere
to refocus the line
is this where you ate ice creams on the stoop?
where you went to church in the morning through the Kaiserstraat
walking through the bloemenmarkt
ate a broodje haring in the Dam?
now everything is something else –
you two lifetimes later, and me, one
working in the wild, with seaweed gardens and generators
so many trips in your cavernous van – the freight shipper, low on the barge
we eat the fish raw brought in from your men, with soy sauce and wasabi
one night, out the back after work, you showed me how the keas would get drunk on the berries, and swoop through the trees
‘the west coast of the South Island, and the east coast of the North’
you advise in your purled accent
there are many secrets, on your island
a place laden with them, those dark corners
another nugget –
‘built a bloody brick wall around yourself’ you tell me
I wished I could have known everything about your castle
at the funeral we sing How Great Thou Art
to you, our monument
before lowering you into the ground
your wife and all your children, crying
put the last tulips on your bed
somewhere where you can hear the keas – where we buried our cathedral
Emma Daniels is an avid writer based in Tāmaki Makaurau, attending Auckland University and frequenting bookstores around the city whenever possible.