And you say ‘green’

Kārerarera
pale like fresh growth
of māhoe across Zealandia’s
valley in spring, or a
tasty Granny Smith
to be cooked up in a pudding

Kākāriki
a beautiful rich green, like (obvs)
the native parrot that Mum
bred out at the farm
with red or yellow crowns
and cheeky little chatters

Kārikiuri
dark green like a Christmas tree
with spiky upturned branches
that give ‘the finger’
or my old school blazer that
itched and confined in summer

Hīoi
the glossy sumptuous leaves
of a puka that make you feel
you’re in a tropical paradise
even though you are freezing
your arse off in Wellington

Kānapanapa
the shimmery green of the
slinky crushed velvet dress scored
from the Quinn’s sale that I wore sneaking
into the nightclub squinting my eyes
at the door for a less innocent look

Kārikihāura
a succulent olive’s
browny green or the back
of my hei tiki after she
has sucked in oils
from my body

Kārikikōwhai
lime green like the scooters
that we glided across
the flat city on
trying to avoid potholes
and clumsy tourists

Kārikiōraki
the teal of salt water in Akaroa
and blue-green lines of Mokorua
the moko etched into my chin

Kārikitea
like Snifters we chewed at the pictures
or the pastel green popular
in the eighties that looked sickly
against my Kāi Tahu
honey beige skin

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Ariana Tikao is a musician and writer who explores her Kāi Tahu identity, mana wahine, and ancestral kōrero through her creative work. She was awarded as a 2020 Arts Laureate by the Arts Foundation of New Zealand.