<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Under Putney Bridge<\/strong><\/p>\n The tide is out and I take the stone steps down into the mud. I imagine I\u2019ve drifted through a forest canopy, Each step is drier as I climb <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Born and raised in Australia, Diane Mulholland<\/strong> now lives in London where she spends as much time as she can watching the river. Find her on twitter @dianemulholland.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Under Putney Bridge The tide is out and I take the stone steps down into the mud. The air is quiet here and damp walls grow around me, over and below, arching grey. There are ducks. And the weed has been neatly combed by the river\u2019s see-you-later. I imagine I\u2019ve drifted through […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11054","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11054","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11054"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11054\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11056,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11054\/revisions\/11056"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11054"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11054"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11054"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nThe air is quiet here and damp walls
\ngrow around me, over and below, arching grey.
\nThere are ducks. And the weed has been neatly combed
\nby the river\u2019s see-you-later.<\/p>\n
\nemerging into stillness. There\u2019s
\nnone of the dust and bustle of the other side.
\nIf I listen, I can catch a glimpse of horns and hustle
\nand the voices of monkeys in the trees.
\nBut they don\u2019t join me here. Only the birds
\nknow how to break the membrane and live
\nin both places.<\/p>\n
\nback to my own world. Rocks give way
\nto flatter stones, the chatter and clutter
\nof the city overtakes me, and the mud
\ndries and crumbles from my shoes.<\/p>\n