Dulcie's toaster house

Spring in Port Chalmers - Dulcie Kirk*, felt-tip pens on paper, 2002

DOWN DULCIE'S STREET

Dulcie draws a toaster house. 

Outside, a web of copper wire 

weaves windows into walls, ties bricks 

to fascias, laces gutters to roof 

to chimney to fly-away

chimney smoke. 

She sends a charge 

across the facade

singes the white sky 

blue, flashes red 

onto the front doormat. 

Inside, there are no lines 

in sight. Breath settles 

into shadows, thought hovers

underfoot. There are shivers

of sound, the invisible murmur 

of magnetic fields waking. 

They shift and fold the paper 

        envelope of home. 

 

Dulcie walks us down her street. 

Beneath the double light of moon 

and sun, she draws electricity, trees

and bees. Her felt-tips ripen

fruit, coax flowers to open. She understands 

the secrets of dragonflies, seeds germinating 

in silent underground places. 

You can tell 

she knows that ink 

dreams in water. 

* I recently learned that Dulcie Kirk has died. I did not know her well but on the few occasions we met, was touched by her refreshing transparency and lack of compromise when it came to her art-making. She was remarkably prolific. 

Whilst sifting through boxes and files from my past, I came across this poem I'd written for Dulcie eight years ago in response to her Port Chalmers drawing. She was in her late seventies when she drew this house; well into her eighties at the time of her passing. 

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