Live Encounters Aotearoa New Zealand Poets & Writers March 2026
Steeped in the frame of inseparable selves, poems by Sophia Wilson.
Steeped in the frame of inseparable selves
what is ‘I’?
if not the space between dark sheets of memory
laid down inside night’s tented skull —
a stained and sagging hippocampus
its overwrought mattress sprung for fight or flight
a spectre scraping coal across the pane, again —
eviscerated hills, dry riverbeds, silently marching trees
forests working themselves loose as mouthfuls of ash
— the blooded jaws of burning bungalows
what is ‘I’?
if not desperation beating at a cage’s ribs
the yearning for ‘safe’ —
a square of afternoon sun on carpet
before the wolf enters
before the walls close in
before the inevitable casting out
to concrete plinths and bitumen
what is ‘I’?
if not the figure haunting a mountain pass
fleeing rubble, a vertiginous letting go
at the borders / barricades / bombs
ghost bones rising from earth again
and again the shifting mirage, refuge —
seasons of heat and betrayal, a child’s feet planted
at the margins, before dismantlement
turns over turmoil, a continuum of dark clods
shed cells of hope ¬¬—
curtains opening and closing, again
what is ‘I’?
if not dust collecting on a ceiling fan
a hypnotic rotation of blades, or butcher’s knife
the resinous remains of flies
resolidified clumps / clots flung across white linen
slippery narratives loosed from their moorings
weeping wombs, weathered casements
the leaden history beneath acrylic sheen
fragile filaments, a goitre of heavy metals
in the gloaming —
light pooling, before revenant darkness
here and again at the cornices of white matter
nothing is as durable as it seems
violence rubbing up the cavities of us
gaping floors opening to territories beneath
myriad repetitions
what is ‘I’?
if not an ink slab collapsing at the stop
dry rot, and rats
damaged air bordering the point
at which a doorknob becomes the safest part of a room
exit to a severed sea, fake pond, immaculate lawn
a clutch of eggs incubating beneath tangled, dark bush
gentle rain descending through blossoms, again
undone by guttural cries —
drakes vying for supremacy
aggressive, and territorial
the exhausted duck trapped
in airless occupation
between bodies and turbulence
it’s hard to tell whether she is resisting
surrendering
or drowning
Narcissus Poeticus / Poet’s flower
momentarily
unfurls
genuine beauty
despite the odds
I could make a list
of everyone I’ve failed
or everyone I haven’t
because in this war
everyone is comorbidly
guilty and innocent
consuming at the mercy of
public safety, another bench
arrayed with narcissus
narke, nukes, narcotics
Who doesn’t crave easy care?
— or to be that beautiful plant
herbe a la vierge
‘virgin’s weed’
sulphur yellow
delicate white
while simultaneously
delicious red strumpet
with nothing
to lose
at least nothing
we acknowledge
while the perfume lasts
Pagan Particulars
floors inlaid with deathly orbs /
truths we cannot bear
the seasons are inscrutable
and daylight sick with moths
rust, and official blood sacrifice
our bones strike new notes —
sharply defined caskets ornament
capitalism’s illimitable surfeit
improbable, fragile universe!
fire in hand, land —
war’s teratogenic wilderness
devour each other, we
gaunt vengeance
are the impossible tasks
of peacemakers
hyperbolic stones set in silver seas
spill too late to be heard
skies ripen, searing
we bear the sun like a badge
deposed the magic wooden bowl
and walking staff, cursed the plants
random chains and tyrants
ghosts and shadows
haunt our great divide
such dramatic histories —
bovine keepers, soured milk
and slaughterhouses
when all I want
is to be a willow cabin
at your gate
© Sophia Wilson
Sophia Wilson grew up on unceded Anaiwan land in Australia and is currently based in Aotearoa New Zealand. A multilingual arts graduate and former mental health worker, she was runner up in the 2021 Kathleen Grattan prize for a sequence of poems, and the recent recipient of awards for poetry including the Hippocrates Prize, the Robert Burns Poetry Competition, the Caselberg Trust International Poetry Prize, and the Flying Islands Manuscript Prize. Sophia is assistant editor for a fine line magazine / journal of the New Zealand Poetry Society, a host of the Octagon Poetry Collective, and the author of Sea Skins (Flying Island Books 2023). More @bluetree_poet Instagram.