<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Let Streetview take you home for the holidays<\/strong><\/p>\n Hitching a white arrow up Saffold Way <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Alexandra Citron<\/strong> was born in Washington DC and moved to the UK at 12. An editor by day, she is a Poetry School student, member of the Blue Side Poets and published in Mslexia, Visual Verse<\/em> and New Boots and Pantisocracies<\/em>. @AlexaCitron<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Let Streetview take you home for the holidays Hitching a white arrow up Saffold Way the trees are all too tall. It\u2019s garbage day. The blue door to the old house stands ajar but should be orange and the street wider where in summer small feet ran over searing asphalt for a dare. […]<\/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-15571","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\/15571","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=15571"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15571\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15572,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15571\/revisions\/15572"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15571"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15571"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15571"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthe trees are all too tall. It\u2019s garbage day.
\nThe blue door to the old house stands ajar
\nbut should be orange and the street wider
\nwhere in summer small feet ran over searing
\nasphalt for a dare. The birch in the front yard\u2019s
\ngone with the brown Toyota and begonia beds.
\nA man in shorts is heading to go in,
\nhis chores complete. I shadow his retreat
\nback to the kitchen on his left. Ahead
\nthe L-shaped room and stairs, perhaps a cat
\nscratching the corner of a chair. You are
\noutside on the balcony, let\u2019s say,
\njust out of sight, calling us in from play.<\/p>\n