As always, it came down to the last few votes but ‘The Seventh Car Will Be His’ by Sue Finch just edged ahead to be Pick of the Month for September. This ‘dark’ ‘sad’ poem drew voters to it because it was ‘extremely visual’ but at the same time much remained unsaid. Ultimately, it left the reader with a sense of unease and forboding<\/p>\n
Sue loves North Wales, the sea and being lost inside a film. She is currently completing her\u00a0MA with MMU. She has asked that her \u00a310 ‘prize’ be donated to Cancer Research UK.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Seventh Car Will Be His<\/strong><\/p>\n As the\u00a0raindrops collected on the glass <\/p>\n Voters’ comments included:<\/p>\n This poem makes me feel as though I am the girl who is shocked at the sight of a dead rabbit. It is easy to imagine myself in the girls shoes, being a child again, watching out of the window, being comforted by my brother. A vivid picture is painted of what can be seen in the street while they are waiting. I like the fact that the biggest shock comes at the end when you realise it is a pet rabbit rather than one that would be used as food. It is atmospheric and dark. The sense of tragedy and mystery which shimmers with every word. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Extremely visual. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Evocative, sad and beautifully written <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n So real it hurt. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Strong imagery (rabbit, crisp packet and tatty tabby). The line – Time had halted in their house since last night – is powerful and foreboding.<\/em> <\/span><\/p>\n I love the authenticity and childlike tone which is captured so well in the poem. It keeps resonating inside me. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n There is a build up, tension leading toward something unknown, and even then only implied. Very cleverly done. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n I like the subtle way it hints at something dark. Fantastic! <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Emotive. Perfect. Clever. <\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Sublime.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n …it\u2019s the one that made me stop at the end and just contemplate the most.<\/em> <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As always, it came down to the last few votes but ‘The Seventh Car Will Be His’ by Sue Finch just edged ahead to be Pick of the Month for September. This ‘dark’ ‘sad’ poem drew voters to it because it was ‘extremely visual’ but at the same time much remained unsaid. Ultimately, it left […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"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":[136],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15079","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2017-poetry-picks"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15079","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\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15079"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15079\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15088,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15079\/revisions\/15088"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15079"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15079"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15079"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthe old man\u00a0opposite strolled down his path.
\nKneeling on\u00a0the chair she watched all movement.
\nNext door\u2019s\u00a0tatty tabby sat on the kerb
\nwashing\u00a0methodically behind his ears.
\nA crisp packet,\u00a0encouraged by the wind
\nthat brought\u00a0the rain, turned a somersault
\nand she\u00a0wondered if it felt its freedom.
\nTime had\u00a0halted in their house since last night;
\nShe didn\u2019t\u00a0want to hear her breath, admit
\nshe existed\u00a0or have to move from there.
\nOnly when her\u00a0brother came to kneel too
\ncould she\u00a0exhale the sigh that needed to
\nescape from\u00a0the jail of her too-taut lungs
\nIt will be alright, he said, sparing her
\na glance.\u00a0Are you sure?\u00a0she asked not looking.
\nThe seventh car will be his, just you see!
\nShe knew she\u00a0did not want to see the truth.
\nThe truth was\u00a0the rabbit hung in the shed,
\nThe truth was\u00a0the claret blood dropped from its nose \u2013
\ncongealed yet\u00a0fresh on the stone floor. The truth
\nwasn\u2019t quite\u00a0covered by half a blanket.
\nMultiples of\u00a0seven came and went and
\nthe old man\u00a0returned. Not noticing them
\nhe shut his\u00a0front door and stayed safe inside.
\nHe lit the\u00a0front room then darkened it again
\nwith his\u00a0smoothly drawn pleated curtains,
\nThey both\u00a0knew he was still there, just hidden.
\nBut so too\u00a0was the lifeless hanging pet.
\nThey sat\u00a0watching, waiting, not yet crying.<\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n