The last Friday Poem for 2020 is by Dunedin poet Michael Hall.

End Poem

Not everything falls
or fails;
rocket ships still roar
into the next world
like a boy
after feeding the dog
one cool evening
twelve years old
scaling
the sun fading face
of an unwalled barn
clutching for
terse straw,
fingers
seeking
in that season’s
lost heart
the taut twine –
then finding
higher up now
gaps, feeling
between bales
unplanned places
footholds
no adult sought
or fought for
before clambering
into dark

space.

The Friday Poem is edited by Chris Tse. Submissions are currently closed and will open again in early 2021.