the grass is overgrown
as tall as me
long damp leaves give way
as I run through them
soft and yielding
and green, green
a vivid emerald sea

and I run through
to the gate
and throw a handful of chalk over
into the paddock
into the docks
and dandelions

its only now
that I can see and feel it
in memory and dream
then
it was all energy
and intent
and deception
and fear

I went back there
years later
the grass overgrown
as tall as me
the house burnt to the ground
I carried a burnt jarrah post all the way back to Wellington

and I see photos from that time
and there is no colour
the grass is cut
dry in the summer
but I’m still running
running