#524 Instead I wait, I wait for the rain

I scroll through old Facebook messages
I go to your tangi
I see a therapist
I write poems and tell myself they are not eulogies –

My stomach turns into a hāngī pit
As I find the old poem we wrote together
I do not share but keep it to myself
Let it sizzle and spit and settle –

For at least three weeks
I devour that poem each night before bed
Thrown together and tasting like
Your mum’s boil-up on a Saturday night –

I remember:

Standing amongst the mourning hills
Watching the casket slowly descend
In the midst of a haka so loud
I see your mum mouth there he is
As rain starts to spit.

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Ashlee-Ann Sneller is a Wellington-based poet who grew up rurally. Her poetry can be found in places like Turbine | Kapohau, Otoliths and Fast Fibres.