<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Walking with Dad<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Dad says, when we are first born Dad teaches a child to slide a rule. Dad lies belly down over cliffs Dad sleeps behind door locks <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Helen Sheppard<\/strong> has worked as a midwife. Fascinated by birth and those unheard. Published in Hippocrates Prize 2017, I Am Not A Silent Poet, Blue of Noon. Performed at The Nuyorican Poets Cafe.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Walking with Dad Dad says, when we are first born our stomachs are size of a walnut. He spews up his gut full of tiny cannibals who eat and eat and…, shares his cheese pickle sandwiches. He is empty Dad teaches a child to slide a rule. He tells me Logarithm and […]<\/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-15983","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15983","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=15983"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15983\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16359,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15983\/revisions\/16359"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15983"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15983"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15983"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nour stomachs are size of a walnut.
\nHe spews up his gut full of tiny
\ncannibals who eat and eat and…,
\nshares his cheese pickle sandwiches.
\nHe is empty<\/p>\n
\nHe tells me Logarithm and amoeba
\nare proof of existence, computers
\nwill devour our facts and remember
\npies are always square never round
\nHe dims down<\/p>\n
\nat Land’s End. A child straddles
\nhis ankles. He reaches for rocks
\nfor his rockery. They body pivot,
\nstretch. Rocks splurge into squall
\nThey are budgies<\/p>\n
\nHospital ghosts float too close
\nHe puckers to kiss and spit pills
\nPockets full of drop stitch holes,
\ntrail crumbs from chair to bed
\nHe has forgotten<\/p>\n