David

helen

she remembers
our mother riding
sidesaddle

must of
been 1963

the year the the Queenstown
centennial

probably their only
holiday

she remembers
tent and the
fire made

in a spit in
the ground

my cousin
brent
and I

made a hut
in the trunk
of a rotton poplar

helen was a girl

at bluff i remember her
at 12 or 13

as she was starting
to bloom

and we went out
on the oysterboat

at 5 am
with our uncle rana

the drew chucked
octopus at us

in fun
(I think)

and i could not find
the john...!

until I saw my uncle
with his bum over the side


helen is my
bestest friend

we are
getting older

we lean
one to t'other

we share
our dreams

some few secrets
and our time...


if poems
were made of memories

poems are made,
made of plums

peaches, nect-
arines...

minefields
courage

and helen
sweetness.

D A V I D