Daughters of Displacement

always searching for solid ground 

when they wrenched grandmothers 

from their whenua 

they tore out hearts 

by the roots 

and left them to bleed  

into 

descendants 

who fill the void 

by planting 

a barely-beating organ 

into the rib cages of others 

asking them to nurture 

what we’re too afraid to hold 

and our grandmothers 

couldn’t teach us consent 

because they never gave it 

so we don’t invite him back 

and say it’s because we’re tired 

and have to get up early 

but really his conversation 

bores us 

and we hate golf 

and his eyes tell us 

that all he wants 

is to make love to himself 

and use our body 

but we are not land to be desecrated 

and no means 

fucking no 

and we’re just scared and scarred 

daughters  

who inherited corrupted kōpū  

and empty chest cavaties. 

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