You can see two oceans up here
till rain on the harbour
obliterates an entire gulf
though the south stays gigantic
as when it erupted out the sea.
After the rain there's a scribble of islands
rushed off by some god
containers plait wakes by Takaranga
and traffic, corpuscles along Quay Street
feed the city.
A man lovesick for history
can stare out and imagine these things
follow with his finger causeways
that smudge the land's edge
then squint one eye
and with the power of time
demolish a city under his thumb.