Live Encounters Aotearoa New Zealand Poets & Writers March 2026
We didn’t sign up for this, poems by Alexandra Fraser.
We didn’t sign up for this
Leaves have fallen the winter is long
grey-threaded skies and days
brood over hours on screen
pixilated faux-families
roots lie quiescent in rain-soaked ground
waiting to wake with the rising mercury
a winged messenger of the gods
carrying cherry blossom
wine-red magnolia buds bursting
the crackle of a happy fortune cookie
but decayed fallen branches
despair gone rancid
the footsteps that are not heard
for that we will not answer the door
will not sign for the package
will not take it inside cut
through the wrappings
made of old news the print-outs
of lost poems
frayed faded ribbons
holding the darknesses together
rather we will look from our window
observing out-of-season daffodils
dead birds and the crying time
Salama Mama
Salama Mama
ino vaovao? – what’s new?
Your letter fragments drop into my day
Yesterday we made timber boxing for concrete columns
I slice the rind of two lemons into fine strips sift flour
break eggs
We’ve been mixing lots of concrete back and forth
buckets of sand aggregate water
Push paragraphs around cut and paste change words
check invisibles
Today I built scaffolding from eucalyptus logs
Meet the architect add a window choose the doors
Here we have bucket showers from well-water
Shop forget re-usable bags remember wine go to yoga
Had a lovely afternoon in the shade hacksawing rebar
to measured lengths
Hand-stands elude me my ardha chandrasana satisfies
We went for a walk to find chameleons
rested under a lychee tree
were given bananas and a live chook
I walk by the mangroves remember us there together?
Before the sun rose
the landscape looked like a Colin McCahon painting
I miss you
Now the world is wet very too wet to work
I pick basil the last of the beans
We dug trenches around our tents the toilets had flooded
fly maggots had crawled out
Tidy the pot plants bromeliads remind me of you
spiky tough beautiful
A special dinner we had zebu kebabs
fried cassava balls and salad
green vegetables at last
The paper is thick cream almost waxy
not scented no hint of your Gucci
Or the slightest whiff of concrete dust
just faint hint of lemon from my fingers
A lullaby of chirruping fruit bats crickets
You have used a fountain pen
wrapped your voice in ink
Parcelled and stamped it
so my eyes can be my ears
I hear your soft excited lilt
stroke your words
It’s beautiful here
© Alexandra Fraser
Alexandra Fraser lives in Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa NZ. She has been writing poetry for over 20 years and has been published in magazines and anthologies both in NZ and overseas. She has also published two collections of poetry. Her poetry usually focusses on connections, because in a world full of power-driven disconnections and cruelties, people still connect with love for one another. That is our human strength and our survival mechanism and worth giving words to.