MAYHEM - Issue Four

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Jack Kennedy

Whatuwhiwhi Gates

The first.
Deterrent with heavy chain,
hardy lock,
and a hand painted,
weather beaten sign
          Private Property:
          Trespassers will be
-
A faded warning from my grandpop
that never did its job.
Probably for the best too.
The marae across the road
fed their scraps to the old kunekune
Horace loved that.

The second.
Always warm from the blaring January sun.
Galvanised steel
should be solid,
should be strong.
Instead it barely hangs on its hinges
decades of kids ignoring parent’s orders
          Don’t swing on that bloody gate!
Tempers stretched
five hours in a car
four sets of small elbows crammed in the back seat.

The third.
Moss covered
always open.
We probably couldn’t close it
even if we wanted to.
It’s a part of that bush now boy
he told me.
With cicada shells and spider-webs.
Frayed blue twine
tied it to the lone post
of an unfinished fence.

Contributor's Note
Jack Kennedy is currently in his final year of a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Waikato. When he’s not playing golf (terribly) or serving beers, he writes the occasional poem or story.