Te Awaroa(The Valley of the Long River)

Molly traversed the ocean on a sailing ship that floundered on sandbars within sight of land

she spilt with horses, fruit and other pale faces into a river valley drowned long ago by the sea

and weighted by her buttoned boots sank beneath the wails of migratory birds

fish unpinned her knee-length hair flicked their tails through her petticoats kissed her hands and lips farewell

but what everyone remembers is the waves carrying Molly ashore and how her husband knelt beside her

polished an apple from the capsized cargo on the left pocket of his torn, briny shirt

then sliced it in half with a bushman’s knife to reveal the five-pointed star of Venus

when he pressed it gently against her cheek the eggshell-white skin of his facewas so tightly stretched over the bonesit appeared to be on the verge of tearing