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Bronwyn Golding
New Zealand

Four Steps To Standing on a Horse - Penny Howard - 2014
I have recently completed a BA at Victoria University of Wellington in English Literature and Media Studies, and Honours in English Literature. I am currently doing a Masters of Teaching (English) in Secondary Education. I hope to encourage more young writers to explore poetry and, when I have more time, explore it a bit more myself. 

Jayne’s Letter

dear sir/madam      to whom it may concern
in response to your letter      in response –
in respect of      in regards to my son –
due to my son’s special and unique needs –
dear sir/madam      to whom it may concern
in response to your letter      in response
to your dismissal      to your denial –
due to my son’s special and unique needs –
dear sir/madam     to whom it may concern
in response to      regarding your letter
refusing to acknowledge my son’s needs –
my need’s for my son      in regard to my
son’s unique and special needs      dear madam –
dear sir      to whom it may concern      at your
discretion       disposal      in your control –
as you advised you will not      you cannot –
for my son’s unique and particular –
to whom it may concern      I said hey you!
you cannot supply      you cannot      will not
fund      I understand      regarding my son’s
challenging and significant demands –
resources      dear sir/madam I do not
understand      dear madam      I ask for a
review      demand      plead for understanding –
dear sir regarding your letter dated
the 14th of November this year      sir –
because of my son’s demanding      special –
to whom it may concern      my son’s drain on
resources      needs      given my son’s demand
for resources     I ask for     plead for your
consideration      I ask      I beg at
the doorstep of human condescension
in respect of      in regards to      my son.

Bright Shiny Things

She found a bright shiny thing and we marveled at it as it lay in her hand
She put it in a jar with other bright shiny things that we had marveled at
And together they were wonderful and she was happy because she was a child

The child grew up and went out into the world to find her way
She found love and it shone like hematite and she held it tight
She told love she loved it and she kept it in her heart – even though it was too big

She collected more love, and more, and more, until it spilled from her heart
And fell in a heap to the floor
Where it lay in the dust and debris of other love

She cried bright shiny pearls that fell from her eyes and I marveled at them
Sometimes all night, and I told her the brightest thing was her,
And I listened to the brightest things she said, and they were amazing

Together we remembered the jar of bright shiny things
And when we found it we marveled at them for hours
And for a while she forgot about love, and she was a child again

Nothing to do with eggs

I’ve been driving around the block for seventeen and a half minutes and I’m sweaty and
anxious because it’s so damn hard to find a car park in this neighbourhood      then I see one
and try to squeeze my beat up 1996 Subaru station wagon in between a Volvo and an Audi
without dinging either    I’ve come for rice and those big bottles of soy sauce that they sell at
that shop that we call “the Asian shop” behind Imperial Imports and next to that shop that we
call “the Indian dairy”      G is texting me but I just can’t be arsed checking the message I
haven’t got any energy left for any more requests      I tackle the beaded divider head on as
my entrance sets off the ‘ding dong’ sound that alerts the Asian family of my arrival     the
old man smiles at me      he has both teeth missing from the front of his smile and walks with
a limp      I point to what I need and say “rice” loudly as if he’s deaf maybe he is but for some
reason it’s automatic     so then I shout “soy sauce” and point at the one I want      he smiles
and doesn’t say anything and I pay and leave      I make it home and G asks me if I got the
eggs he text me about and I say no I couldn’t be arsed and then we have an argument in
which a lot of things are said about a lot of things that have nothing to do with eggs     later
on he tells me he ran into Jeff from up the road who lives next to those gay guys and he’s met
some chick from the south island      “oh right” I say because I don’t really care but I have to
look like I care so we don’t have another barney      someday I might care      someday I
might not have to drive a beat up 1996 Subaru station wagon      someday I might check the
message on my phone and come home with eggs      someday I might say something to the
old man that emerges from behind the wooden beaded divider other than “rice” or “soy
sauce”      someday I might talk to the gay guys that live up the road      and someday I might
say a lot more things about a lot more things that have nothing to do with eggs