Waiheke
By Ella Holcombe
for days
we walk the island
broken tennis rackets, tent poles
strange murmurs in the bushes
today is night without the darkness
rain falls like a whisper
we watch a grey mass of cloud
shift across the sky
and smoke damp cigarettes,
hold hands beneath trees
the fish and chip lady sings 'love me tender'
over the splutter of fat
my shoes fill with sand,
we fall asleep on the beach
in the morning we swim
the bluest, coldest sea