WEEKEND IN ROTTERDAM
Phoenix city, harbour machine
with the spirit of Erasmus watching on.
Ships bob and grind in the harbour, needling rain
stains Coolspiel. A lightning crack
illuminates like a frozen Vermeer view.
That thunder off the North Sea, the following
clarity of light reminds me of home,
of Canterbury and Otago, of New Zealand.
How can a major Dutch city
not have any internet cafés?
In a scruffy pub I drowse in a corner,
am drowned in beer and camaraderie
in Europe’s open mouth. The weather
groans and strains. I smell the sea, the bruised sky
and am content.
First Published in Takahē 67, 2009