Jenny Clay
Jenny Clay is a graduate of the Whitireia Writing course. In 2000 Learning Media published her text for a children’s picture book ‘The Smile in the Moon’. She has had poetry published in Takahe and in New Zealand Poetry Society anthologies.
In 2003 she organised a poetry and art exhibition ‘Reflections’ and performance at the Community Gallery of Lopdell House. Recently she began reading at Poetry Live in Auckland, and ‘car camping trips’ is included in Volume 8 of ‘Tongue in Your Ear’. She was invited to participate as one of the ‘Divine Muses’, nine women reading their poetry in celebration of Montana Poetry Day 2005.
great barrier
lighted
eyes of koura
above waterway
kingfisher
watches shoreline
from fence post
banded rails
go off
at the beach
bartailed godwits
a variable
oystercatcher
baby kina
washed up
a dried puffer fish
hung on a branch
Halloween mask
with swollen
Mick Jagger lips.
the tattooed baby
has dragons twisting
on his body
they climb around
his back
there are snakes on
his neck
on his forehead
a butterfly is forming
from a chrysalis
he brings his fingers
to his forehead
and into my palm
where
the butterfly sits
unfolding
its wings
transparent.
Previously Published inTakahe 2004
in the classifieds
(part found poem)
Union of perfect harmony.
Consider a test drive.
One large heart,
pre-used
beating, not beaten.
Bargain.
Iron John seeks woman who runs with poodles,
creative cooking, no vampires.
Enjoys jungle walks,
vine swinging and elephant rides.
Affectionate vegetarian
into total honesty
and deep communication
yearns for slimish soulmate.
car camping trips
“Settle down
in the back.
No more
horse play”
but there were
never horses
apart from
the white ones
we looked for
after the black dog
and kept
our fingers
crossed
in between
Bring the old socks out
and burn them.
Don’t give them a second chance.
Don’t wash them in milk
or perfume.
Take the oils you’ve hidden
from the shelf
and rub them over your skin,
until the aroma floats sideways.
Take the seeds they say
are overdue
and plant them.
Take the blossoms
from the back of the garden
and put them in the centre
of the table.
Take the dream
from the back of the wardrobe
and put it in the centre
of the table,
put it into the centre
of your life,
weave it into the oil
on your skin,
and leap off
with all fibres
flying.
