Hine-nui-te-pō lies down    next to the carpark
a fantail dancing over her fingers    go she says
the cars just sit there for hours on end
doing and saying nothing                she watches
as a person approaches                  listens to the
short chirp of the vehicle unlocked            what
bird was caught                              inside the key
                                           Where will this engine
go and what will            it do when it gets there
moving                                      from one place to
the next                           in the most destructive
way                a mammal
grunt in its                            non-existent throat
These machines look                like death to her
and she knows                  what death looks like.