Iona Winter

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  • kōwhai

    I walk at night to different sounds as the land stills herself and breathes out my ears always pick up more when my sight is less. Beneath ancient kōwhai trees with blackened skin I allow myself… Read more

  • kāinga

    up here the city is like a war zone sirens-helicopters-violence with indigenous forms commodified on buildings and some of my friends will say they’re immune   i’m impatient for harakeke wind-song old gnarled scented-blossom trees and familiar paths out to… Read more

  • old ways

    i wish for the old ways of recompense rather than the blame that pervades modernity   transgression affects a whole whānau oscillates the extremities leaving none untouched   i wish for the old ways where the offence was laid… Read more

  • resonate

    your gaze references inherant mirrors and sonorous caverns of forgotten lovers faint echoes engraved in the bedrock   your words glide willingly subcutaneous breath resonates off damp walls and i recognise sanctuary lies within   Read more

  • voice

    your voice holds mine within time, place, land and sea illuminate awakened shadow selves fit seamless constellations hands memorised no expectation freedom inside our conscious touch your voice holds mine within Read more

  • hills

    a forgotten past convenient to bury within fathomless wardrobes   not long ago grandmothers burned alive like torches up there on the hills   ancient anger resurfaces when sisters are treated with a similar cowardice… Read more

  • Marks

    We met at the pub. Next morning, he suggested breakfast, ‘Eggs?’ I cooked, we ate and he disappeared.   But he’d marked my neck with a crown-shaped bruise. Then I… Read more

  • Splintered

    The dawn chorus today sounded agitated. I lay in bed and listened before opening my eyes. Autumn is upon us. Sunrise comes slower now, with its apricot-pink fingers. Beyond the… Read more

  • Lost Marbles

    My Grandfather sleeps a lot these days. When he’s awake he repeats the same questions, or remembers random facts from the past. “I owned a Chevrolet Impala in 1967.” Way… Read more

  • quiet

      i am  rinsed clean by the currents deep-blue-green-water-clarity tethered far below like a buoy the weight soon slips quiet from my shoulders i wait back against the clay face outwards to… Read more