there are two huia heads floating in a glass case at Te Papa

                and you can make the word kupu out of puku but I cannot conjure the word for

                the wingless thing inside there as I trace the long, curved line of kōrero back

to the start of someone else’s

 

beak

 

just two heads floating

and a sign that does not have the word “korehāhā” on it

                no “ngaro” either

                and definitely not “whanaunga” let me tell you

 

and I cannot fathom why you would want the ngutu of another pinned so proudly to your chest

a garish medal for your battle with the birds

or why you would decide to chain it to a pocket cigarette lighter of all things

(are you feeling as māuiui as me?)

 

but this is what the description tells me

this and something about hunting and something about status

and something about drawing rooms and

I almost smile at the poetic potential of it all but I can’t because

 

there are two huia heads floating in a glass case at Te Papa

and the caption says you are haunting us and I do not accept this

(but I also would not blame you if you did and started asking for your stuff back and demanding a proper burial for your lonely, patient bones)

 

two of them, e rua ngā upoko huia

and a paragraph proclaiming that all that is left of you are

                pieces of jewellery and

                a few stuffed birds and

                some skins for the studying

(sorry I guess the songs and stories do not count)

 

the label says: heteralocha acutirostris

though it doesn’t really matter

 

because at the end of the day

there are still two huia heads left floating in a glass case at Te Papa

and a description that doesn’t tell me where the rest of them went

but when I turn around the sign above the door announces:

 

“you are leaving mana whenua”