Daisy Pinks

O catch Miss Daisy Pinks

Undressing behind her hair;

She slides open like a drawer

Oiled miraculously by a stare.


O the long cool limbs,

The ecstatic shot of hair,

And untroubled eyes

With their thousand mile stare.


Her eyes are round as marigolds,

Her navel drips with honey,

Her pulse is even and her laugh

Crackles like paper money.


By Alistair Te Ariki Campbell