Auckland Poetry

Bash baby, smash baby, into the night

Nation wakes in morning to another fright

Bash baby, smash baby, have you no shame

Nation suffers in mourning and feels all pain

Bash baby, smash baby, we have had enough

Go get help right now, there is no place left for tough

Bash baby, smash baby, another one is dead

We pay with consciences’ and all bow our heads

Bash baby, smash baby, there is no lullaby

Cruelty seeps in my town and I weep sad goodbyes

Copyright Deana Platt 10/4/08

she’ll smile and cry
when she receives my postcard nine months later
I’ll cry when I’m forced to walk nine miles
because I can’t support myself on a paper leg
we’ll say it was such a waste
until I get married
have a few peacocks, sheep, stone house
field of lavender and nine kids
I’ll purge myself of all the jam I ate straight from the jar
please infiltrate my dreams
please fill my head with good thoughts
these jam eater blues have got me down
my belly has grown since then
I’ve sent three postcards
can you sense the urgency of this letter?
-it’s only a nightmare!
leaving will bring me back to sleep every night
postcards will show I’m happy
walking nine miles to the post office
notes in my best handwriting (hands shake)
dig up my last thirty-seven cents and forge my own signature
-that’s me!
he threw a carrot at me and it left a bruise
I kicked him and injured my foot
escaping night and sleep
an empty stomach and empty pockets
running away from happy home poverty and nightmares
to lonely away poverty and nightmares
it’s all different
it’s very much alike-
one step closer to big bellies and stone houses
poverty that is my own
empty pockets that grin widely
nine miles I spit at the cars that pass
swinging my fists at steering wheels
every day
dusty grins toward nine
no more postcards
only crying when belly sinks
and pain shifts to beauty
and beauty in a tiny hand clutching a white breast
in a finite universe.