Ruth Upperton
Winner - 2011
RUTH STUDIES LAW AND ENGLISH IN WELLINGTON. HER AREAS OF INTEREST ARE RHYME, STATUTORY DRAFTING AND LITIGATION.
The prosecution
he loosed the boat that sank the ship
he muttered swears and gave us lip
he took sweet cherries from the girls
he swallowed whole the summer pearls
he took white sailboats from the boys
he gave the dead a waking voice
he shook the baby in the cot
he left the cabbages to rot
he spat into the casserole
he left the dreamer down the hole
he smashed the glass-spun hummingbird
he wouldn’t use the magic word
he took our tongues and gave us lies
he made the graveman improvise
he slapped the spinster in the face
he broke the boy who won the race
he disembowelled the sacred cow
he said to us, start running now
he dyed the wedding dresses red
he filled the old man’s head with lead
and this is why we want him dead
and this is why we want him dead
Song about a child
The dog is a book read over and over.
The dog is a river, it’s stopping for no one.
The dog is a child who thinks hot is a colour.
The book is a dog that hasn’t been walked.
The book is a river that cannot be forded.
The book is a child, maintaining stern silence.
The river is a dog, running past hillsides.
The river is books spilt down a staircase.
The river is a child, it refuses to play with you.
The child is a dog sniffing at thistles.
The child is a book that hasn’t been written.
The child is a river running under a river.
The child is the dog and the dog is the river.
The book is a book about children in winter.
The dog barks a book at the edge of the river.
Dog, sings the child, sings it over and over.
Animate elements
You’re very sexy for a heretic,
walking in a heretic manner.
I forgot the prophylactic,
you forgot to bring your camera.
The elements watch us below.
They start the fall of hectic snow.
We trade smiles with a passing funeral,
note the sapling’s sticky anger.
Churches, benches, fields are carnal.
Cities speak and streetlights banter.
The elements crow They don’t know!
They’re filling us with baleful snow.
You and I forget to start
in avenues so cutely callous.
The clouds sensibly depart.
The sun’s becoming jealous.
It’s elementary stuff to know;
one day soon the snow will go.
We walk through the animate streets,
wishing only we were talking.
Eftpos machines hand out receipts;
windows, doorways, cars are gawping.
The wind sings a song so apropos,
the alleys collect what we outgrow,
the elements treasure the status quo.
They hold us wrapped in animate snow.