Paekakariki
In the garden of cats
the deserted lover
learns to purr again
& threads the sun around her neck
in a garland of golden oyster shells.
Violets grow quietly
dragonflies come to call
she smells lavender
listens to the sea.
Inside her shut shell
the deserted lover makes pearls
from the gritty bits.
Thinks: If I were a cat
I’d live off parakeets
& keep my love.
This is an old poem I wrote years ago after I’d been house-sitting for my friends Anna-Marie and Mary-Jane in Paekakariki – “the ridge where the parakeets perch”. It was summer and their cats and I spent a lot of time sitting about in the garden.
You can read the other Tuesday poems here.
9 comments
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29 May, 2012 at 8:26 am
helenlehndorf
Killer last stanza – love it!
29 May, 2012 at 12:16 pm
janisfreegard
Thanks. Helen!
29 May, 2012 at 10:01 am
marydanae
Very much like this, Janis. Feels a bit Janet Frameish, or maybe that’s because I’ve been reading her … I like the ‘shut shell’ and the unexpected casual ‘gritty bits’. Living off parakeets too… a delicious ghastly image.
29 May, 2012 at 8:56 pm
janisfreegard
Thanks Mary. I’m sure our cat would live off parakeets if she could.
29 May, 2012 at 8:19 pm
Elizabeth
Yes, I agree with Helen – the last stanza really kicks a punch! I love the shift in structure, ‘Thinks: ‘. It zeros it all down to essentials. Really enjoyed this!!
29 May, 2012 at 8:58 pm
janisfreegard
Thanks! I made some revisions to the last 2 lines last night before I posted it – I’m pleased I made the changes now.
29 May, 2012 at 9:24 pm
gurglewords
I’ve always thought of Paekakariki as a wild place not a place for resting or purring at all,gritty bits yes …but this poem has changed all that. It now seems quite exotic. Love the contrast between the quiet violets and the emerging personality of the deserted lover.
5 June, 2012 at 10:44 am
andrewmarkbell
Lovely poem, Janis. And I learnt that Paekakariki means “the ridge where the parakeets perch”. Bonus!
9 June, 2012 at 1:19 am
Michelle Elvy
Wow, this whole poem just sings. I love the opening, all that hope in
“learns to purr again
& threads the sun around her neck
in a garland of golden oyster shells”
And the phrasing throughout. One of my favourite poems this week — so good.