By Rachel Fenton

The Healing Garden

The healing garden is a circle 
within circles – raised flower  
beds surround a sculpture 
from the Rotary Club, gears  
worn smooth, a clockwork cog. 
An apology walks on two legs 
between the unturned 
earth; our PM lays out  
peach for the dead. 
Among all that is senseless, 
feathers suspended in webs  
resemble hammocks 
for the imagination to rest. 
 

People Who Walk Parks by Day

Alone, wear gloves 
and heavy clothing,  
look away when people  
who walk parks by day 
pull carts, say Hullo, trying  
to appear youthful  
and appear youthful by accident 
because they have their hood  
pulled up by the parent they carry  
zipped inside of them. 
There is an abundance  
of unnatural orange. 

Pushing the Pram 

See me on the bench,  
point in passing, 
say, That’s the life. 
Aren’t you lucky *assume  
baby voice* to have  
such a wonderful mummy 
who takes you to the parkYou’re doing a great job, 
honey. Don’t give up  
your seat; make a lot of noise.

Rachel J Fenton is a working-class poet living in Aotearoa New Zealand. Her chapbook Beerstorming with Charlotte Bronte in New York is forthcoming from Ethel Press in 2021.

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