Her New Zealand

I still see you, New Zealand
It is as if I never left,
your cold pale sky floats within me,
large puffs of smoke in the air,
hanging about like the wet clothes in our caravan.


My whole life fit into a 9x12 foot box,
condensation stricken windows,
forced heat to clog our throats and crack our lips
Steam in the showerrooms before the sun came up
(the first sun of the day)
us on opposing sides of the room,
olive oil on our skin.


I am still there, the land of the big white cloud
It fogs up the windows of my mindsets
and sweeps me away down a steep hill
(the one we rolled down looking upon the mountains,)
lakes made from angry ancient craters;
emptiness in the land, emptiness in the earth
I have never left you, home away from homes
World full of foreign families,
             babies in the backseat
                      cigarettes on the porch
                                paper currencies folding themselves up into origami butterflies
fluttering about, keeping their eyes upon us
All different wallpapers peeling from the ceilings,
I see them here too,
in all of the places I find home in,
the beds I lay in with the people I love,
the layers underneath what's hidden in the walls,
books on the shelves hypnotizing tired eyes.
And so I close them and once again, see you,
You sing me to sleep sweetest lullabies
I thought only existed in dreams that
never happened

—MacKenzie Siobhan