Sunday, September 25, 2005

214. Aotearoa

I walk
down the path
flanked
by strange
companions
silent
serious men
mother naked
feather-bedecked
over the rough
trail I walk
and they smile
from time to time
with stained
and sharpened
teeth.

I smile
and caper
but
when I whinny
as I feel
I ought
with subservient
courteous
laughter
I fear I find
their frowns
and disapproval
decidedly
disconcerting
not at all
the thing

The captain
god rot
him, has
stayed behind
and forced poor me
a surgeon's mate
to accompany
these
sullen savages
along
imperceptible
jungle trails
in search
of sweet water
and greens
for the scurvy.

On trees
hang fruits
I have never seen
and also
there be flowers
whose fragrance
overpowers
my senses
but my trousers
rub hard
against my thighs
and the
Norfolk broadcloth
of my
uniform coat
hangs heavy.

Suddenly
we stand on the brow
of a ridge
and my knees
become unsteady
but ahead
and below lies
a sheltering bay
with the sweep
of the sun-bedazzled
and bedazzling sea
while the sun
itself
sinks down
like a fat red
orange.