<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Relics\u2019 Requiem<\/strong><\/p>\n Behind glass, resting now, as after a long Formerly they were carted from place to place is that absurd need to eff the ineffable that from their shells: dirt under ancient finger The relics keep their secrets, snigger at our <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Colin Pink<\/strong> writes poetry and lectures on the history of art. His poems have appeared previously in Ink Sweat & Tears<\/em> and in other literary magazines such as Poetry News; The Shop; Poetry Salzburg Review; South Bank Poetry<\/em>. Acrobats of Sound<\/i>, a collection of his poetry, was published by Poetry Salzburg in 2016.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Relics\u2019 Requiem Behind glass, resting now, as after a long journey, putting their feet up, the relics are checked in to the cathedral treasury like so many tourists in a mid-range hotel. Formerly they were carted from place to place like family heirlooms, by monks and priests, stolen like silver or gold […]<\/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-16682","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16682","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=16682"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16682\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17070,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16682\/revisions\/17070"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16682"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16682"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16682"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\njourney, putting their feet up, the relics
\nare checked in to the cathedral treasury
\nlike so many tourists in a mid-range hotel.<\/p>\n
\nlike family heirlooms, by monks and priests,
\nstolen like silver or gold credit cards to heaven
\nby pilgrims, invaders and rival orders. What<\/p>\n
\ndrives us mad? Here it is: masquerading
\nas fragments of bone; vials of dried blood;
\nforeskins. How dreary they look shucked<\/p>\n
\nnails; the itchy aroma of dust; the shrivelled
\nskin of hope, dry and wrinkled as a face
\nwhose beauty has been capsized by time.<\/p>\n
\nconfidence in the capacity of the intangible,
\nLaugh Out Loud at our longing for the
\nnuminous to blunt the blade of the real.<\/p>\n