Just Us

It was always just us. And we knew it too.
Behold, behind the curtain was a child.
Behold, behind the statue was an old man speaking 
through a device.

Under the bed, it was always just us.
No one seriously considered 
it would be anyone else 
hiding in the shadows.

Remember when you got happy,
totally out of it, clean gone?
That was us. You knew that, right?
I was the voice of God, or someone.

That event in 1717, and in 2004, that was me.
Well, you and me, though we were just minor tremors.
The big one was a joint effort from overseas. 
That was us in the big number.

Just us in the photograph, laughing with you.
That abduction, yep, that was us.
Sorry we forgot to tell you about that.
Sorry we forgot to fill you in on the plan.

You know who did that, don’t you?
We did it! Mutilated their remains.
That was always just how we do things, kiddo.
It was always just us at the end.

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Richard Reeve is the author of seven collections of poetry, variously by Auckland University Press, Otago University Press, and Maungatua Press. His most recent publication, About Now, was published by Maungatua Press in 2024. A new collection is forthcoming. He lives at Warrington, to the north of Dunedin.