<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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Intermission<\/strong><\/p>\n The afternoon hangs like orange peel, it would be too much trouble to fire them. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Alexandra Melville<\/strong> is a writer and educator. She was long-listed for the Poetry School’s Primers competition 2017 and her poetry has appeared in Brittle Star <\/em>and MIR Online.<\/em> She is studying the MA in Creative Writing and Education at Goldsmiths.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Intermission The afternoon hangs like orange peel, our lips tight as a nun’s pinch, the plump sucked out by three pm as if through rind. I watch clockwise hands; I don’t know what you watch. My eyes slide from you. We Janus face away together. If we had guns it would be […]<\/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-16648","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16648","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=16648"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16648\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16900,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16648\/revisions\/16900"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16648"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16648"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16648"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nour lips tight as a nun’s pinch, the plump
\nsucked out by three pm as if through rind.
\nI watch clockwise hands; I don’t know
\nwhat you watch. My eyes slide from you.
\nWe Janus face away together. If we had guns<\/p>\n
\nFighting now would be an act\u00a0of violent faith \u2013 love \u2013
\nnail your colours to a beam. Sponge your
\nown chest with vinegar. Take the offered
\nsegment, flick off the pith and bite a tough
\ngrin in your half-time slice.\u00a0This still is not the end.<\/p>\n