Spit by Hana Pera Aoake

Hana Pera Aoake (Ngāti Mahuta, Ngāti Raukawa, Ngāti Hinerangi) is a repressed mozzie bogan with a heart of gold. Hana is interested in drinking sangria, eating oysters, catching flights not feelings, listening to baby making rnb and trying to get hapū by 2021. They live in the land of the wrong white crowd on Ngāti Whatua land in Tāmaki Makaurau. They work primarily in the Fresh and Fruity collective with Mya Morrison-Middleton (Ngāi Tahu). They have aspirations to live on a yacht in the French Rivera drinking prosecco and Moore Wilson's OJ. 

​Spit

And it’s too hot to sleep 
And there is a lone fly in my room that seems to multiply in the night
And I’m so frustrated
And the neighbourhood cats are in heat 
And I wanted to spit on you

And I resent the sound of cicadas
And the chickens croak in the morning
And I wanted to kiss you

And I thought about what a round the world trip would be like if you actually went to every
single country on Earth
And I hate the sun when it burns my skin 
And I wanted to hold you

And my friends ex lover liked a photo of me in a bikini 
And I wish u liked photos of me in a bikini 
And I wanted to fight you

And I hate the ‘Chaka bro’ emoji 
And I hate it when you say ‘hahaha’ 
And I wanted to spit on you

And I didn’t wear this red dress on Valentine’s Day (because I didn’t want you to see me
throwing a dewy romance look and get the wrong idea, but then I also thought I wouldn’t see
you and then I saw you and regretted not wearing the dress) 
And it’s a nuisance to feel so deeply but be unwilling or unable to show it 
And I wanted to kiss you

And I wore tino rangatiratanga colours to show I at least had sovereignty over my own body 
And I watched a video last night called ‘passionate threesome’
And I wanted to hold you

And you saw me but I didn’t see you 
And your skin melting together  
And I wanted to fight you

And you perform basic kindness 
And it seems revolutionary but it’s the bare minimum 
And I wanted to spit on you

And I don’t want to be an emotional tampon anymore
And I contort the insides of my body when I’m in the same city of you
And I wanted to kiss you

And I hated the art opening 
And I don’t want to perform to strangers
And I wanted to hold you 

And I wonder how I don’t explode around you  
And I didn’t mean to not see you 
And I wanted to fight you

And I’m not the one that got away 
And I wish I was Barbara Streisand in The way we were
And I wanted to spit on you

And your eyes looked yellow
And I hope you have clean bones, hands and nails 
And I wanted to kiss you

And I feel afraid when you look at me
And everything feels so easy, breezy, beautiful, I’m a covergirl
And I wanted to hold you 

And I hate that you wear a Metallica tshirt but you don't listen to Metallica
And I hate your handwriting
And I wanted to fight you

And your love language is big empty gestures
And my love language is acts of service
And I wanted to spit on you

And your jokes aren’t always funny, but I’m trying to be nice
And it annoyed me the way you stared at everything in my room
And I wanted to kiss you

And you wore your shoes inside
And I feel like a weed growing through a tree stump
And I wanted to hold you

And you didn’t come over when you said you would 
And I thought about your body being like a Pouakai, an extinct bird that hunted moa
And I wanted to fight you.
 
And my skin bubbles like it’s a miracle cleaning product
And I think about my swimming coach saying, ‘I’ve had a guts full of your attitude’ when I
was thirteen 
And it’s important to always be gentle with yourself 
And I’m still sorry but I don’t know what I’m sorry for anymore 
And I wanted to spit on you