POULIULI

Dedicated to Katherine Uleberg


When they burned your body

the empty fale became

webs breathing our memories.

Shutters suspended on broomsticks

let open the memory of Kake’s

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biscuit tin overrun with black ants.

Greeting every morning

talofa lava and a kiss.

Rubbing coconut oil on the dry

mottled skin of Kake’s

bad leg, I am company

in the pouliuli of blindness.

Kake sings and plays harmonica

as I shake ants from the tin.

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