Title: We get on

Author: Holly Painter

In: Sport 40: 2012

Publication details: Fergus Barrowman, 2014, Wellington

Part of: Sport

Keywords: Verse Literature

Conditions of use



    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Sport 40: 2012

We get on

We get on

like a house on fire. What a line. Nothing burns here.
Even my armpits grow mildew while I sleep and
lstick insects weld spindly watertight armour for storms.

A fistful of stars spattered at this latitude night after night
always the same, just tilted, and you picnic alone on
a grass island between eastbound and westbound.

I skid up close, toss tins of corn out the window.
What’s your sign? Where’s your beggar’s placard?
Take a photograph to hang in my kitchen. You cook.

Feed me oysters. I’m allergic to ragweed and shellfish
but what an aphrodisiac, to watch you shuck and pile
the soft parts in a shallow pool of vinegar.

I let you out in spring to press your low nipples flat
against a sled on a dewy hill. It’s faster than snow
and a salt truck sprays the ice-sculpted children.

I paint a pot of daffodils for your desk and put you to work
writing the story of my life, especially the part where
you sit on my bike and put your thumbs through the holes in my