{"id":16021,"date":"2018-04-18T08:00:06","date_gmt":"2018-04-18T08:00:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=16021"},"modified":"2020-12-09T15:31:35","modified_gmt":"2020-12-09T15:31:35","slug":"bridget-khursheed-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/bridget-khursheed-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Bridget Khursheed"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><b>Standing on top of the National Museum of Scotland<\/b><\/p>\n<p>We find the roof garden.<br \/>\nIts little patch of moorland, birches,<br \/>\nheather so perfect it might hide<br \/>\ngrouse turd, quartz, even Tunnock wrappers.<br \/>\nA mountain peak handkerchief<br \/>\npicnic-pack pooled<br \/>\nuntil the air all around is streaked with dry<br \/>\nleaves and the ghost of pollen.<\/p>\n<p>And the sky opens out above all the glass<br \/>\ninaccessible VIP pathways.<br \/>\nHow did we get here like this?<br \/>\nAnd the face of volcanos: did I mention<br \/>\nArthur\u2019s Seat with its buzz cut of tourists?<br \/>\nWill one of them fly?<br \/>\nFighting vertigo with talk and tin cans,<br \/>\nthe children snail the big rocks,<br \/>\nimpossible here, and the glinty light<br \/>\nchanges. And I feel happy<br \/>\nlifting off slightly over to Blackford Hill<br \/>\nand Salisbury Crags, bigger than<br \/>\nanything this family thing.<\/p>\n<p>And as we trooped down to the caf\u00e9;<br \/>\nthe blank plastic clock below<br \/>\ncried out the hour like birdsong<br \/>\ntelling me later<br \/>\nthat was the moment that you died.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div><strong>Bridget Khursheed<\/strong> is a poet and geek based in the Borders; a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award recipient, her work is widely published in magazines including <em>Ambit, Butcher\u2019s Dog, New Writing Scotland, Zoomorphic <\/em>and<em> Gutter;<\/em> @khursheb<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Standing on top of the National Museum of Scotland We find the roof garden. Its little patch of moorland, birches, heather so perfect it might hide grouse turd, quartz, even Tunnock wrappers. A mountain peak handkerchief picnic-pack pooled until the air all around is streaked with dry leaves and the ghost of [&hellip;]<\/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":[137,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16021","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2018-poetry-picks","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16021","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=16021"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16021\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16425,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16021\/revisions\/16425"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16021"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16021"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16021"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}