The Body of a Rascal Kōtiro

Searching 

My teeth fell into the sea 

I’ll swim as deep as I can 

one big breath in those little lungs 

I will be the one to spot the taniwha 

I’ll catch it and show all my cousins 

None of us have seen it but we dream of it every night 

So we sprint to the shore when the marama appears 

to follow the whispers of tangaroa 

We search for answers on the ocean floor 

surrender to the sound 

until it settles in our skin 

Each one of us swallows water on the way back up 

I float on the surface with purple lips 

I can’t help but sink 

and swim until it’s night time 

until my hair turns into seaweed and 

My smile is made of pearls

__________________________________________________________________________

The year everyone got GHD’s for Christmas 

The first time was a ritual 

My hair tangled in their forearms 

Pulled in every direction and falling 

To the will of each sparkling new wand 

I am 10 years old and so hungry 

For that practically Practical Magic 

All my tuakana have mastered The Craft 

so they sit cross legged in an open circle and 

Welcome me to worship 

An altar of broken combs 

Rusty clothes irons and burnt fingertips 

The room is foggy and steam rises 

To dance with clouds of menthol cigarettes 

Is this the mist that I'm supposed to be child of? 

That mist you were talking about dad! 

A hot pink Nokia plays Lauryn Hill on full volume 

I place it in an empty cup to amplify the sound 

They call me brainy but I only know 

From all the time I’ve spent balancing 

A glass between my ear and the door 

Hoping to hear them swapping secrets 

Since I could remember 

My only birthday wish was to be a teenage girl 

Luckily every new candle took me closer 

And when their calloused and tender hands 

Pinched at flushed cheeks and lifted my chin 

My eyes settled there 

In a perpetual upward gaze

____________________________________________________________________________

Giving and Taking and Giving Again

My heart is so full, big and beating 

I feel her growing out of my chest

She stains my clothes red and pulses

at the slightest change in weather

aches to taste each rainfall 

dreams of taking flight in the wind 


She is agape and unafraid, inevitably

subject to sticky fingers saturated

 in honey or venom or cum

Sticky fingers grabbing a fistful of whatever

might satiate their starving

She goes with them willingly 

“Let me live and die!” She cries so 

I kiss the pieces, torn and taken and 

nod farewell with reckless faith 

She knows too well 


I’d crack open my own sternum 

for the moments of blissful return 

When the sun travels right into my unshielded chest 

Light bursts through my body 

beaming from my fingertips 

and it feels like I am touching everything I see

-

I used to find you in every beautiful thing 

Now all I see are pieces of my heart 

Scattered about the universe 

Like my very own treasure hunt



Melissa Dam

Melissa Dam, a high-school student in Auckland, draws from her surroundings to encapsulate a nuanced journey through youth, capturing the essence of failure and the importance of resilience.

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