First Place

Mother & Child

-for Alistair Te Ariki Campbell -

round the edges
of the photograph time

is reclaiming you, still
for a moment in

your European shoes
cane chair

& photographer's back-drop -
your left shoulder

drops & the outsized
collar of your

dress leaves shadows
at the base of your neck -

a Polynesian face
at odds yet not at odds

with all of this
as if something in

the brown air said
that time's irredeemable

& yours almost up

*

along the coasts
the rusting hulks

stand above
the tides & waves

lap about them
or crash about them

when the wind's high -
& in the still air

fishermen carry
their lights moving

slowly as if they've
done this for as

long as the lagoons
& sky can remember

- as long as the sand
& moonlight - which

curve toward the
south - the grey

acidic smoke of Otago

*

Teu, over thirty
years ago I rode

the waves of your
home islands as

the oarsmen struck
their rhythm

to the call of
a master standing

by the transom -
they timed

the breakers, surfing
tiny gaps

in the reefs
to sheltered water. &

now I write
about your son who

turned the rising
mists of the south

to lighter & darker
shades, whose photograph

also stands beside
me - old man /

child - his outsized
collar too forming

shadows - his
eyes searching the

middle distance
just above my right

shoulder. something there


John O'Connor
Christchurch
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