<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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Before She Went<\/strong><\/p>\n She rests in music all day long Her legs become just rumours under the duvet, and And so she brings us together again, Sam Parr<\/strong> is an English with Creative Writing Graduate from the University of Birmingham. He is currently an intern at Birmingham Children’s Hospital, and writes in the breathing space before work in the morning<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Before She Went She rests in music all day long Jazz, Opera, Nationalist folk, The closest thing to silence I can find here.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 If she raised her head, she would see Tesco, a pub and the steelworks, the new Wales, rolling out like steam, But instead she watches the sky As an […]<\/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-12016","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\/12016","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=12016"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12016\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12017,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12016\/revisions\/12017"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12016"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12016"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12016"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nJazz, Opera, Nationalist folk,
\nThe closest thing to silence I can find here.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em>
\nIf she raised her head,
\nshe would see Tesco, a pub and the steelworks,
\nthe new Wales,
\nrolling out like steam,
\nBut instead she watches the sky
\nAs an airplane splits it in two.<\/p>\n
\nher skin stops fitting,
\nThat\u2019s because it\u2019s mass produced<\/em>
\nshe explains,
\nIts transparency seeps through into her bones,
\nAnd when she hoards enough will to
\nlift her arm
\nThe moonlight slips through it
\n– salt dissolving –
\nWhere do I end?<\/em>
\nShe whispers
\nAs the nurse jumps
\n– I did not see you there,<\/em>
\nmy dear,<\/em>
\nwhat with all this light.<\/em>
\n\u00a0<\/em>
\nShe peers at my face
\nBreaking into her vision
\nand says
\n\u201cPicasso, Van Gogh, Toft.\u201d
\nYou have grown so much,<\/em>
\nyou say to me,
\nAs we lay our hands on her
\nour fingers becoming a roof
\nkeeping her anchored
\nfor just a moment longer.<\/p>\n
\nin dying as in living,
\nAs she had before the Swansea ocean,
\nbefore whose great exhales
\nour young hearts shook to,
\nuntil we gripped her hand
\nfingers wrapped around her thumb,
\nher skin the softest material
\nI had ever felt,
\nits constant beat so strong
\nit was if I held all of her
\nin the tiny shadow of my palm.<\/p>\n