A new poem by David Eggleton.

Mr Explorer Douglas

Bird cries soar from shore to shore

You compass islands to hear surf roll.

Above iron pot’s steam, ranges writhe.

Blank spaces on charts mark this place.

My watch chain dangles time away.

I take bearings from raptors on the wing.

A kiwi digs with beak walking stick.

What does that rainbowed rain declare?

I was no more than a beetle click,

when I leapt up as a kite rattles,

and fell into my sprawled reflection.

When half of me rotted away, my soul

grew restless and flew to a mountain,

and perched there silent, over carrion.

The Friday Poem is currently edited by Chris Tse. Hera Lindsay Bird will be taking over as editor from September. Please send poems to info@thespinoff.co.nz.