Magnolia

Nina Mingya Powles

" why don't you write about yourself ever

people used to ask / and I didn't know why / either

in Chinese one word can lead you out of the dark / then back into it / in a single breath"

Magnolia is the debut poetry collection by poet, essayist and non-fiction writer Nina Mingya Powles, one of contemporary poetry's most exciting new international voices and the winner of the inaugural Nan Shepherd Prize for Nature Writing. These vivid, luscious poems move between journal and biography, place and belonging, all the time exploring the multitudinous facets of language and culture that make up our identity, from the sense of longing that a delicious bowl of food conjures up to the inviting glow of paper lanterns that illuminate memory and travel. Formally rich, these unique poems skilfully broaden the perspective of all a poem can hold can contain through their daring, joyful and expansive approach.

III.

Mother tongue / 母语

A poem in two voices

I wake to the sound of	what if my mother never left this place
blue mosque morning prayers	where the heat pours down
I have never known what the words mean	between the coconut palms
but I can hear the ache	if I had grown up here
in the kitchen every morning	I would have different-coloured hair
I peel jackfruit with my fingers	and different-coloured eyes
while they talk over and around me	I would speak to Popo all the time
in a language so familiar but so far away	we would chop vegetables together
in the kitchen every night	and peel the shells off quail eggs
I eat pink rice cakes with my hands	on blue evenings we would sit
the powdered sugar sticks to my lips	looking out for distant lightning
and Popo says is it good?	above the hills where plastic flowers
yes, it is good I reply in Hakka	fall against coloured graves
because it is all I can say	see how it lights up her face
and we sit there with the quiet burning	as the rain cools off the surface
of the mosquito coils	of my skin
she hands me a paper napkin	of this dream
she gestures towards her mouth	where I am not trapped
she touches my hand without speaking	in any language

Origin myths

While watching Lisa Reihana’s video installation Transit of Venus [Infected]

at the Royal Academy of Art, London.

Where are you from?

What is your ethnicity?

On your mother or father’s side?

How long have you been here?

How long has your family been here?

Where were you born?

Where was your mother born?

Where was your passport issued?

What is your permanent address?

What is your mother tongue?

Is your hair colour natural?

What does this country mean to you?

Is this your home?

What is the purpose of your visit today?

(In the background a woman’s voice is the wind)

(Blue-green leaves shake while waves pour at my feet)

(I have never seen trees like these growing so near the sea)

(The trees and mountains are listening to the wind)

(The imaginary trees cry out)

(Singing, dancing, an endless loop of sea an endless loop of sea of sea)

(They say the sun never sets on the British Empire)

(A ship with white sails slips into the Sounds)

(A woman with feathers in her hair stands on the shore)

(Watching small volcanoes erupt slowly in the distance)

(To complete the scene I sew my own star map in red thread)

(I embroider volcanoes onto horizons)

(I stitch my name into the sea)

(I measure the distance)

Two portraits of home

After Werner’s Nomenclature of Colours (1814)

[IMG_098]

morpheus butterfly wing blue albatross white

plastic-orchid blue hawthorn-blossom white

the blue of the sounds skimmed milk

white

the blue of the sounds the blue of the sounds unripe-mango green

distant-forest green feijoa tree green

kōwhai-petal yellow

fantail-feather cream

volcanic grey

[IMG_227]

enamel bowl rim blue lepidolite lilac

throat of crocus blue

chrysoprase blue

magnolia-leaf green-black

plum black

heart of jasmine pink hot violet hot violet

purple-aster black raspberry ice cream pink

peach-skin pink honey-pomelo pink

strawberry-wafer pink

light blood orange

lower wings of tiger moth red lantern-festival red

mooncake-wrapper gold tūī-feather iridescent green

electric billboard blue neon neon green high-definition silver

shanghai-taxi blue reflected-gasoline blue

grass-jelly black

wet-cormorant black nightriver black

Mixed girl’s Hakka phrasebook

After Sennah Yee

Phrases I know in Hakka:

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Sit down. It tastes good. Please. Thank you.

Phrases I don’t know in Hakka:

How are you, It’s so good to see you, How did you sleep, It is such a beautiful morning, Did yo...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• I.
• II. Field Notes on a Downpour
• III.
• Notes
• Acknowledgements
• About the author and this book