Madeline Grace

Hearing Voices

Hearing voices when you are sixteen and wet with fever when a teacher slips her hand to the small of your back and you feel the mooned curve of her nail. Hearing voices and not really understanding why you hear them balling your hands into a tight fist while it rains indoors, under the rafters.Continue reading “Hearing Voices”

Ancestral House

I was reading about the Ancestral House Trying to fit my tongue Around the ngā’s and pō’s and wiki Passing through a kōruru belly Saying, this is the house and these are the people The tiny eyes of god, to twenty quiet faces I ask you questions like do you think progressing in your jobContinue reading “Ancestral House”

Listen

I have built the bones of my mother’s house On the back of hurled words. I have placed my knuckles in the rafters And punched at nothing Except the way we had to fight, like we are fighting now In that artery of corridors When answers couldn’t be drawn in the sand, so easily WhenContinue reading “Listen”

Tides

You said, I want to go to Northland where rivers become oceans on hot plates of sand and touch each other’s tentative fingertips. Where fish and chip shops line the shoulder of every cabled-road, and my gnarled fingers grab tough fistfulls of sand. No matter how much you try to avoid it it always hasContinue reading “Tides”