for Meg
I had been painting the blue sky
a brighter blue.
I had been higher than I thought possible.
When I fell,
the sun wheeled spokes of light
about my head
I make no excuses for my fall -
anyone that aims at such heights
must take the necessary precautions.
He must take care
to lean his ladder against a fixed object,
preferably a star.
O love, knowing your constancy,
how did I fail
to lean it against your heart?
© Alistair Te Ariki Campbell, 2008
You wanted to reach the roof
to paint it blue.
You propped a ladder
on a wobbly table
that gave way under you.
You fell, with a poem
spinning inside your head.
You lay for a moment,
your left wrist broken,
stunned and half-dead.
This time you've painted
the roof sober grey.
You worked all day
and into the night
hoping the paint would dry -
now our tank water's grey.
You blame the heavy dew!
No one so green as you.
One day you'll paint
our roof another hue -
gold or vermillion,
turquoise or apricot -
you'll climb so high
intoxicated by the sky,
you will fall through.
Colour man, what are you?
© Meg Campbell, 2008