S  e  c  r  e  t  s    blackmail press 24
Art Nahill
New Zealand

Art Nahill is an Auckland physician and has been published in numerous American journals as well as Poetry NZ, Takahe, and Landfall.


I woke startled
from a memory of you

the afternoon we skipped

and you taught me instead
to play

Red Light Green Light

along the length
of your thigh.

I had not thought of you
for years though

the incidental trajectory
of laughter

through an open window
the improbable angles

of sunlight
through early summer leaves

has often given me
sweet inexplicable


Gypsy Flamenco

She dances for cigarettes
and coin-clatter
to battered six-strings
rhythms drummed
on empty olive tins

as I watch
heady with Spanish wine
and the allure
of the dispossessed.

She is a cavern of secrets
of hollowed voices
as she gathers
her fraying hem
to her knees

staccato steps
like gunfire
through the riddled Pyrenees

a quickening vessel
bearing me
to the far banks
of desire.