Broken Light

Remember the street
light I broke with a fluke
from my shanghai? You had me

upstairs in a flash
pants round my thin ankles
paddling my raw bum.

I can see the view
from your bedroom
window out over the buffalo

grass where we flew
kites across the broad
grey sea to Tiri Tiri

Whangaparoa and beyond
before I closed my eyes
to it all and hitched south.

Last night we cast your ashes
on the buffalo hill. Flash
apartments stare out where

once our tall house swayed
through the cold evenings.
New lamps burn in the street.