The Friday Poem: ‘Not Waving But Dying’ by Kim Cope Tait
A new poem by Kim Cope Tait.
Not Waving But Dying
The day we moved in
to the house on the peninsula
I stood before the picture window
that faces the harbour. Oh, I said,
I’m going to die here.
It wasn’t macabre, no fantail arrived.
And I wasn’t afraid.
I just knew I had landed at last
in the place of my dying.
I lifted my palm to the sea, just so.
I did die in that house—to my old life.
And a fantail did arrive the day
that I announced my leaving.
She flew in through the open door.
The man I was leaving
waved frantically,
fear of the literal rising in his throat,
turning grief to terror in an instant.
I extended my hand to her softly.
She did not alight there, of course,
but paused mid-flight
as if considering.
And then she was gone.
This morning, before I could scroll away,
my eyes landed on the body of a boy—
reaching skyward, his jaw hanging open.
Burned alive while sheltering
in a school in Gaza.
I thought I saw a fantail
alighting on his raised hand,
but it was only ash.
The Friday Poem is brought to you by Nevermore Bookshop, home of kooky, spooky romance novels and special edition book boxes. Visit Nevermore Bookshop today.
The Friday Poem is edited by Hera Lindsay Bird. Submissions are now open. Please send up to three poems in a PDF or Word document to info@thespinoff.co.nz
Kim Cope Tait
Kim Cope Tait has a chapbook called Element and a full-length collection of poems called Shadow Tongue. Kim is currently working on an English PhD with a critical/creative thesis and teaching in the English Department at the University of Otago. Her work has recently appeared in SWAMP Magazine, Landfall, and Two Thirds North. www.kimcopetait.com
