This poem is taken from PN Review 135, Volume 27 Number 1, September - October 2000.
Four PoemsMoa
The first Maori waka arrived
at a pastoral kitchen,
stocked with moa
roaming on giant drumsticks,
named by the settlers
'chicken' which is
to say, meat.
They moved as slowly
as a crowd, and loudly
as a feast,
which is what, after all,
they were.
Those pastoral days
when we walked
with our dinner,
two legs by two,
if we had not got along
so well, may well
have lasted
longer.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 282 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 282 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
