Crows fly out of my mouth,
And starlings, and riots of tuis,
Adding to morning’s clamor.
I am the forest that lives inside the city,
This office tower is my eyrie
And my steel gaze on the steel sea
Is the hawk’s squint piercing
The wrinkled hide of this harbour.
All of the above mine to command
Should I choose it. I am of the flock
And the cloud. The hard sea bore me
In on the gale-struck tide.
Sailors and wise men fear me
When I lower my glasses
Down my beak-hooked nose.
The Town Belt is my dogskin
And your sculptures adorn me,
Metal in my hair and eyes,
Plastic ringed around my neck.
I am your fire at night, I bring shape
In the wallowing dark to you,
Adoptive home, you, womb
Beside the seaside. I reach out
With great grey wings to catch
Your peach-tipped sunrise
And bottle it for the winter.