Rebecca Nash

An Oyster Catcher

And down by the sea
I watch you watch the birds
Never no more to hold you
In a black lost space
Waiting for the fever
And down in the creviced rock
I run through broken shells
Think of the fast feast
With my back to the sea
The oyster catcher watches close
Down on the wettest cliffs
Looking for the fattest pipi
As your tangling
Sand spat feet
Climb the tussock home



For You

This nightly light makes rooms from ash graves

And bird weep the edges of our walking


Here the corners of your body are mine to lie in

Your voice the first and last part of dark


I take it quick and am fuller than you knew

My brim washed well in a steam that will not break


We have not been solid for a moment


Our ashes scattering, hopeless and warm

               To trust in dew to bring the smotes down



By Rebecca Nash

is a poet who lives in Lyttelton with her child, cat, dog and many spiders in the corners. She is a graduate of Victoria University’s IIML and likes to read poems in bars.