Author(s): Lindsay Pope

Poetry | Aotearoa

The coast is a scribble. Stars are stored in a wooden box on my shelf. It is more black than white here. Like algebra but colder. 

The hut's walls are a ghetto of mice. Those I catch become whiskers of smoke in the firebox.

I attend to the scratching radio.

This is not my dream. 

Pope's new collection of poems is informed by the human history of New Zealand's sub-Antarctic islands. 

"These taut, sparely written poems trust the reader to engage with their carefully reconstructed and re-imagined histories histories, incidents and characters." - Harry Ricketts