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Western Line

Rooty Hill Station
Mum drops me off under
the moldy overpass
drives past Wog fruit market,
Eliza Yu’s Medical and Dental,
Bogan IGA and Ozzie’s Liquor House.
My fa‘ē is a circle
always tracing the purple dawn
that sits under her lashes
after every nightshift.
I watch mum’s stomach
stretched to the size of ten tamaki:
‘You can write all this but
you don’t know
how to drive…
Tokanga ho ‘alu ‘ofa atu.’
I gap it for the train
think back to when mum taught me
in Plumpton Park
the difference between –
kuonga taimi / a period of time.
pukē mahina / a time of period.
Home is cramping in my gut.


Marrickville Station
See a fob in active wear
and Tonga’s red rugby jersey
smile at our mahana hair
cause we have the same shirt.
We probably both come
from a family of ten
always sharing
our beds, our toothbrushes, our pads.
Walk past:
restaurants of Buddha shrines
and mandarin offerings,
cratestack chalkboard cafes,
chinese straight fabric sewing
secret bula tahas.
I am looping around Faversham St
‘Tokanga ho ‘alu ‘ofa atu.’
Mt Druitt is bleeding between my legs.



 Great Western Highway
Stare at car ceiling
watch glass reflecting
into what we
imagine Sātuna.
Teach Tan fetu’u.
Teach me Viet for star.
We sit on my kafu
painting ngatu
with my red mahina
on reclining seats.
Tuning in our
stomach whale songs:
chhchhh tyres,
woopwoop sirens,
yayayaya rap,
turning off the M4
back home to Mt Druitt.

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