Marjory Woodfield

Christchurch, New Zealand

 

Marjory Woodfield is a New Zealand teacher and writer. Recent work has been published by the BBC, Raven Chronicles, Cargo Literary Magazine, Meniscus Literary Journal, Mudlark, London Grip and Flash Frontier. She’s been long-listed for the Alpine Fellowship, won the 2019 Dunedin UNESCO City of Literature Robert Burns Poetry Competition, received commendations in both the 2019 Hippocrates Open Awards for Poetry and Medicine and the Proverse International Poetry Competition.  She appears in Pale Fire - New Writing on the Moon (Frogmore Press), Best Small Fictions 2019, (Sonder Press) and the 2019 Bath Flash Fiction Anthology. Most recently she was long-listed in the Bath Novella-in-Flash competition.

 

Poem written: 5th May 2020

 

During Lockdown

 

I walk in the early morning. The air is still and cool. She crosses the road. Passes me on the other side. The quinces in the tree along Kinley’s Lane have all fallen. There were Black Boy peaches on the tree opposite our house yesterday. I picked the last few. He walks his dog. Swings out onto the road as I approach. There are no cars. One jogger.

 

Yesterday we talked about numbers. How they’re rising. The supermarket has policemen and a handful of shoppers. I did the Corona Dance, he says. Shuffle, shuffle, sideways step. We start a list of Covid19 words. 1. Prerona: Life before Coronavirus. 2. Bubble, the group of people you live with, as in, ‘I’m out for a walk with my bubble.’

 

At Merivale Reserve, swings are cordoned off. Old Man’s Beard tumbles over a paling fence. The little boys play tag. Walk home with pockets full of walnuts.