Rosary by Tulia Thompson

When Grey Lynn swam in primary colours

I used to twist my hair into a knot

Play touch with all the giggly kids

No shoes             rasta patterns               pineapple pie

Aunty cooking up the dalo


              now I wear op-shop jeans

              jandals on my giant feet

              even in the Grey


              Least you’re not tralalaing over graveyards

              chewing up the headstones

              says my grandmother

              swinging her own bare brown feet               out of the sky


but she’s singing Isa Lei           and I

only have a poem.


I could sell you a rosary from the beads on my ovaries.

shiny / secret /               circlets shaped like nits


strung on a thread


they might shine in the moonlight.


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