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Sport 35: Winter 2007


page 151


It is fan-shaped. The sunlight I mean, the
way the garage window sculpts it into
triptych. Each panel illuminates a
thing: the workbench, the jack-stands, the pit. You

won't remember this but when I swapped out
the Holden's springs there was a moa bone pressed
hard into the ground. And then beneath it
worn pipi shells knitted amongst the rest

of the midden's detritus. Harwood made
his home here, planted trees, and before that
Kokomuka, now we two also stay
and empty the rainwater tank, grow fat

and know each other. And the spring storms drown
the fish and push the macrocarpas down.