ritu

ancestors climb

the bamboo ladder to

burial

in the cliff-face

their wooden statues

watch

the festival

are we too late

he asks

for simple things

as if Maungarei were

shelved with balconies

of watching dead

in Mangere the dust

to dust in flat

green lawns with

headstones

I carve my statue

of you both

leaning

over the ship's rail

pointing

to your children

here on shore