This poem is taken from PN Review 282, Volume 51 Number 4, March - April 2025.

Fleurs

John Gallas
I.

Please tell me where I am, my dear,
said Alice to the Kākāpō.
I’m sure I think it very queer
the cabbagepatch is white with snow.

The Kākāpō blinked. Alice dismounted and tied Hotspur to a rosebush.
The roses breathed peachesandcream. Alice leant her lance
against a small puka tree and sighed.

I think if you don’t mind so very much, she said politely to the bird,
I shall sit down a while, dear, on this vegetablesheep.
The sun shone brightly upon her helm, and she fell asleep.



II.

Aoraki fights for breath: its crumpled peak
hit by a suckerpunch.
Milky avalanches gasp and tinkle down
the slow,
straightening unwind of its glorious hunch.
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