Kristina is a ‘poet afloat’, freelance writer, musician and home school mum living on a boat with her family in the stunning Marlborough Sounds of New Zealand. Her inspiration is greatly enhanced by the presence of wilderness, and she definitely prefers spending most of her time in nature at this point in time.
Her poetry has been published in Bravado, Valley Micropress, Eclecticism, Shotglass, Granny Smith, One Smile magazine and A Fine Line.
Sacred Confusion
Muddy mind,
stirring tidal flow,
swirling clutter of
where I’ve been
what I should
what I could
why I don’t.
How I’m not and
I don’t got
whatever
it takes to be
what they want.
The sea does not care though
about any of that, it whispers
OK OK OK hush
OK OK OK hush
OK OK OK hush
little baby don’t say a word
Do your duty.
Look after the earth.
Hold everything gently in
the palm of your hand:
don’t try to
‘get’ it.
Digging Potatoes in The Pouring Rain
Please remind me why I am
here: earth clogging my fingers,
dirty water running down my sleeves,
the rain of heavenly bodies
sheeting down, washing me, washing
dirt from round white earth starchy bodies:
ah yes, I will eat of your flesh tonight.
In The City
Here I am in a stuffy grey
box, addictive grey,
city with grey
snakes hungry to take me
anywhere I desire.
Inside my mouth is a
dense greenness of tree, a
mystery of water, a
coral sunrise hue.
An invisible wall no-thing
stealthily tries to invade
my mind-memory sanctuary.
Even dogs are infected.
DO NOT CONNECT.
Look friendly.
Practice ritualized
detachment.
The check-out girl,
she’s from Malaysia
maybe she hasn’t been
infected yet:
her smile reminds me
that I know where I belong.
