In the rough ash
in the rough ash when the clouds fall away
and skeins of flowers bounce out from the sun
with the air polarized and columns discharging
the friction of water falling and elastics of liquid
magmatic foam transpires the humidity of enclosed space
and minerals sweat down their planes of symmetry.
the saturated tents drape over spars beams and poles limp,
pulled into curves by the migration of rain through cloth
and the dripping from heavy edges, cables and wires taut,
a stilt legged bird, it beats like a drum in the shower.
the rivulets spouting from catchments that swing and fold,
they shake and flap as the wind buries itself into the porosity and tension.
the day opens like pipi closes like tuatua
and in between the roll of fish on sine waves tombolo lizards
and rhyolite cones, obsidian slivers pulled through trade
current jelly on flax twines, rafts on the Waikato
and slit gong drums beating Whangamata Whangamata.