Mary brought her sleep filled angry eyes
To our early morning cuppa
I’d a full packet last night – now I’ve got four
The thieving bitch,- fuck her.
Huddled around the penuary of a spent fag packet
The black hole of our existence.
Gravity collapses into the glowing tip of a Winfield.
Rosie’s gone
She went in a bustle of whispers
Her bewildered brown feet gently urged
Towards Porirua.
We held brief tangi in the smoke room haze
Midst a phddge of lighters
Would it be Ward 10 or Craigie wing
Where the security’s tighter.
Jack Perkins 2002
(Tangi is the Maori funeral and mourning period)
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