Published in Overland Issue 219 Winter 2015 · Uncategorized Hiding Kiri Piahana-Wong I am a girl with nothing to hide My head is stuffed full of you But my phone is empty I shudder, I nearly fall I compose messages that I do not send Over and over My hand hovers You are here: I can smell the scent you wear, I can taste you on the inside of my mouth, your fingers run down the inside of my arm: you are here. You are not here. I am proud of my strength, and I weep for it. I am a girl who is hiding nothing. Kiri Piahana-Wong Kiri Piahana-Wong is a New Zealander of Māori (Ngāti Ranginui), Chinese and Pākehā (English) ancestry. She is a poet and editor, and publisher at Anahera Press (www.anahera.co.nz).Her first poetry collection, Night Swimming, was published in 2013. More by Kiri Piahana-Wong › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 1 6 November 2026 · Friday Fiction Headland Harry Goddard He must have still been sore. I could tell from the winces he made as he scooted down the trail. Some unspoken agreement of not hitting other people’s children — and the circumstances of me not being that type of kid — spared me from the same punishment. I was taken to my parents who agreed I would have to work off the damages, and I must have mowed the lawn once, or cleaned the family car. 4 November 2026 · Film MIFF, Minotaur and the politics of maternal reception Alicia Byrnes Maternal labour is, in the terms I’ve set out here, not labour at all. Noisy, unfocused, mobile, perhaps even sleepy — it is an affront to arthouse film viewing and therefore unserious.
