Melons for jam

Lisa McKenzie 2014


half drowned he bows his head

prays before a dead dog

curled in the sand


he had cried in the hold

as The Gannet foundered

watermelons rolling free

green heads bobbing in the waves


  1. Kirkpatrick’s jam factory

where blades wait

and stirrers lean on hot metal

with melon juice stains


they break open on Ngaio beach

pink mouths choke with grit

wasps chew on the sweet flesh

their wings a thrill of sound


the man brushes them aside

places melon pieces around his friend

black eyes in red cups

like the poppies above his brother’s bones