<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Sick Leave<\/strong><\/p>\n I tip the whole dark tray having woken with a gutful I call for the sun. It comes then defining an island comfortably curled flicking switches, I track the lozenge of light Sick Leave I tip the whole dark tray night gave me into the trash and tie the sack having woken with a gutful of aching uncertainty and wishing a white sail for sickness. I call for the sun. It comes sliding its hands inside the curtains \u2013 almost touching then defining an […]<\/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-16417","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16417","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=16417"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16417\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16841,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16417\/revisions\/16841"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16417"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16417"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16417"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nnight gave me into the trash
\nand tie the sack<\/p>\n
\nof aching uncertainty
\nand wishing a white sail for sickness.<\/p>\n
\nsliding its hands inside
\nthe curtains \u2013 almost touching<\/p>\n
\non the blank wall. The others
\nare sleeping on<\/p>\n
\ninside the moon they came from.
\nThey will get up hooded<\/p>\n
\nnudging the pivot
\nbetween night and day.<\/p>\n
\nacross the throat of a room
\nthat has lost its voice.<\/p>\n
\nJulia Stothard<\/strong> lives in Middlesex and works in Further Education as a database report writer. Her poetry appears from time to time in poetry magazines and webzines and her Twitter account is: @terzaverse<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"