<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Cut<\/strong><\/p>\n I inked the inside of my heart that day on Rosie Ward where Poppy Kleiser<\/strong> is a poet based in the Cambridgeshire Fens. Fenland Poet Laureate for 2014, Poppy has performed and been published widely as well as editing Poems for Peace, an anthology of poets all over the country with a foreword by Benjamin Zephaniah.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Cut I inked the inside of my heart that day on Rosie Ward where the whole clean grid was a whitewashed board and everywhere ideas were being born to women with soft arms and skin traceable to Bethlehem. Trying to recite the words were leaking out of me and a ruby […]<\/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-13429","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13429","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=13429"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13429\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13842,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13429\/revisions\/13842"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13429"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13429"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13429"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthe whole clean grid was a whitewashed board and everywhere ideas
\nwere being born to women with soft arms and skin traceable
\nto Bethlehem. Trying to recite the words were leaking out of me and a ruby cracked a
\nblank page to indulge in a sea of itself where dreams bubbled lighter than those that killed them
\nand we lived in a little pink house.
\nAnd each little clot was an unspoken song and
\neach freckled speck was an un-rightened wrong and I am a masochist with a
\ntaste for blood and I always love to waste myself.
\nAnd they said look at the mess you\u2019ve made, your kidney\u2019s on the floor, your liver\u2019s on the table,
\nit\u2019s walking out the door
\nyou chalked a girl upon the ground and then now you\u2019ve washed her all away
\npoor little thing so small and white, you\u2019ll never get her back again.
\nAnd they are small like petals and then my lungs were coming out and then my heart
\nleft through the cut that maybe we should all
\nseal up and then I saw him \u2013 glowing, bright as city choice, eyelashes
\nintricate as mine and almost blinking, and I saw
\nhow fingertips could cling
\nlike ivy – \u00a0oak upon my skin
\nhow tiny ears could hear the bell
\nas all the lessons ended well
\nbut there is nothing left for that but
\na play that came to nothing and
\na poem left for writing that
\ncan never ever be written
\nand a song that will never be sung and a life that will
\nnever be christened, undone.<\/p>\n