New verse by Wellington poet Mary Macpherson

Palaces

When it became warmer, we mooned over lost flowers

Iit again amongst hunks of grass. We found marbles

behind the dresser and remembered palaces

in distant swirls of colour. Shops meant something too.

We love the fierce desire for the things and the beautiful

imaginary self. Almost overnight, the sad-faced dairy

became a darkened window with a spot-lit bath,

then leapt to its future as a dog grooming establishment.

She thought of summers when buying three pairs of togs

was as normal as sand. I loved the idea of silver gates

guarding our wishes. They were forever before us –

lights down a suburban street, the dark flesh of leaves,

petals like dancers in a sodium night.