<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Cursory Sorcery<\/strong><\/p>\n While I wait for you. Late. Again. Where were you tonight? You. Yes. You. My pointy mind traps me, I imagine what only you can see. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ceinwen E Cariad Haydon<\/strong> lives in Newcastle upon Tyne and writes short stories and poetry. She has been published in on line magazines and in print anthologies. She graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University in 2017.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cursory Sorcery While I wait for you. Late. Again. I pick blue periwinkles to flower my stew, a brew of spider\u2019s legs and cobweb broth to chase away the dusty moths that brave the lamp then fall dead on our starched linen tablecloth. Where were you tonight? You. Yes. You. I don\u2019t know. […]<\/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-16706","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16706","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=16706"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16706\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16707,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16706\/revisions\/16707"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16706"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16706"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16706"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI pick blue periwinkles to flower my stew,
\na brew of spider\u2019s legs and cobweb broth
\nto chase away the dusty moths that brave the lamp
\nthen fall dead on our starched linen tablecloth.<\/p>\n
\nI don\u2019t know. Should I shut my eyes to all you do?
\nI try to go steady, but my pulse thumps holes in my chest.
\nI walk round and round as rage jerks my arms up and down
\nand works waspy words, venom stung, in my witch\u2019s tongue.<\/p>\n
\nI am poisoned by your X-ray eyes, quick to despise my brain
\nand the bumpy hummocks of my belly, stretched by three.
\nYou call me witch and crone and, if you\u2019re right,
\nI\u2019ll cast a lethal spell and set us, all five, free.<\/p>\n