Andrew McIntyre was born in North Wales and raised in Waimate. He lives, and works, in Havelock North with his partner and two sons. His poems have previously been published in Takahe and Poetry NZ.
“Poetry in this case was (mostly) used as means to acknowledge and convey the death of a child.”
One of those days.
Can’t seem able to catch a good breath,
the slightest breeze seems a gale.
My wife told me a symptom of grief.
Things a little bit off – tension and stuff.
So many dead birds on the side of the road –
the little ermine cushion of a thrush,
a pukeko’s wing a mohawk, a minah
silenced, normally a master
at skipping away just in time.
With my pond still chirping
with frogs, my heart full
of my son’s ashes,
Minerva*, my Welsh ghost
scanning the sky for the raptor of poetry –
with my soul like scrambled eggs.
*Minerva Jones, of Spoon River Anthology