Exhumed at Earth’s end

I dug out the porcelain bust of a doll, first;
her cheeks the tickled-pink of rosehips,
her nose, so small yet broken. Frost bit
its comic end. Without arms, her hips,
too, were frozen in the earth’s cervix,
mid birth; unable to push herself free of it,
she’d given up, suspended between the spit
and swallow of orange clay. Her eyes, black dots
beneath twice fired glaze, long since lost. Extinct.
But her mouth, the diagram of a seal, was perfect.


Rachel J Fenton

Rachel J Fenton lives in Auckland. Finalist in the 2014 Dundee International Book Prize for her novel Some Things the English, she is also an award-winning graphic poet AKA Rae Joyce, and is co-editing the forthcoming anthology of women’s cartoons Three Words. She tweets as @RaeJFenton.

More by Rachel J Fenton ›

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