This nightly light makes rooms from ash graves
And bird weep the edges of our walking
Here the corners of your body are mine to lie in
Your voice the first and last part of dark
I take it quick and am fuller than you knew
My brim washed well in a steam that will not break
We have not been solid for a moment
Our ashes scattering hopeless and warm
To trust in dew to bring the smotes down
Rebecca Nash is a young Christchurch poet whom I first encountered at the WomanScream reading at the Pallet Pavilion. I will leave the rest of the description to Rebecca who has an inimitable way with words: "Rebecca Nash was born in Auckland in 1988. She relocated to Lyttelton via Dunedin and Dublin for the love of the chilled empty sea. She has been published in Minarets Journal, The Press, and on a Phantom Billstickers poster. She also occasionally teaches teenagers about writing poetry at The School for Young Writers in Christchurch and spouts spurious wisdom at poetry readings throughout the city. She is inspired by walking alone and through her experiences with a chaotic mind and heart."
It can often be hard to describe why you like a certain poem or a certain poet's work and so I will only say that Rebecca's poetry "immerses" me in some way and my response is more visceral than intellectual. Her imagery often takes me by surprise and rearranges the world for me in a quirky way that I enjoy. She reads it well too which just enhances the experience. In a way that the grand old master of recitation, Sam Hunt, would appreciate, Rebecca's poetry is art for the ear and for the heart.