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Sport 36: Winter 2008

[section]

One night, I walked for miles in a line
with two friends and seven strangers; paparazzi
chasing a celebrity bird.

The tussock scratched
ankles and shins, and I caught
the ghost cry of a strangled child
quick flash of oars on the water—
no matter. We plodded on
to where the manuka grew thick.

Nothing but breath and the scrape of feet, but still
they didn't show, these shy, blind birds, calling out
as though they had lost one another for good.

We turned around
and fell asleep with that same cry in the air.

Sabine found evidence, two feathers;
left them for the girls weaving flax on the floor.
In exchange we were offered
a paper nautilus—
thin as eggshell, white as the moon—

and Ralf (who never believed it would last)
carried it back for her
sealed up in a margarine container
safely over the breaking sea.