<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When light poured into me at the swimming pool<\/strong><\/p>\n There was a sweetness to the day. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Abigail George<\/strong> briefly studied film at the Newtown Film and Television School in Johannesburg. She has been widely published from Australia, to Finland and Nigeria, to New Delhi, India, and Istanbul, Turkey. She’s a poet, and blogs at Goodreads here When light poured into me at the swimming pool There was a sweetness to the day. The horizon a blue harsh line. I looked for stars but there were none. For some reason they were always invisible during the day. My heart was filled with honey. I licked the edge of that spoon […]<\/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":[135,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11800","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2016-poetry-picks","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11800","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=11800"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11800\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11803,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11800\/revisions\/11803"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11800"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11800"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11800"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nThe horizon a blue harsh line.
\nI looked for stars but there were none.
\nFor some reason they were always
\ninvisible during the day. My heart was
\nfilled with honey. I licked the edge
\nof that spoon clean. I thought mostly
\nabout writing love poems to myself.
\nI thought about the history of my chronic illness.
\nThe tartness of jam. My sadness
\nwas obstinate. It did not want to go
\naway no matter how many lengths
\nof the pool I swam. Stroke for stroke
\nnever reaching the end. I swam
\nuntil my hands felt like clay. My face
\nsoft. I kept on saying to myself that
\nthe death of the day was a myth. I make
\nit a habit to fold my dreams into myself.
\nMy goals, the poetry I write. I worship this,
\nthis light that is pouring into me now.<\/p>\n
\nhttps:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/author\/show\/5174716.Abigail_George\/blog<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"