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December<\/strong><\/p>\n Now the sun knocks off early, so you head up the hill And the best part is and you push open the door, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sarah Watkinson<\/strong>\u2019s debut pamphlet Dung Beetles Navigate by Starlight<\/em> won the 2016 Cinnamon Pamphlet prize. Her work is published in Antiphon, Ink Sweat & Tears, Litmus, The Interpreter\u2019s House, The Rialto, Under the Radar<\/em> and elsewhere. Her twitter handle is @philonotis.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n New Year\u2019s Eve on the Moon<\/strong><\/p>\n You’ve got telescopes. You can see more watching the landscape gliding by, imagining continents. The night reveals much more, or it’s already been for hours. For one whole day the brighter sway of sunlight sweeping in What’s to celebrate. What slow tides are moved <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ciar\u00e1n Parkes<\/strong> lives in Galway, near the ocean, writing and taking photographs. His poems have appeared in The Rialto, The Threepenny Review, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily,<\/em> and other places. He writes song lyrics for the Galway band, This Lunar Mansion<\/em>.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Winterers<\/strong><\/p>\n The ice in the lake can’t decide into squares, opaquing the hills of their purples and browns. Scaup the colour of black ice unknowing, perhaps, of their place A decision must be made. Get it wrong The ice rings their chests as a woodpecker drums, There is no way to know when to go, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Fiona Cartwright<\/strong> is a poet, ecological researcher and mother of two young daughters. Her poems have appeared in various places, including Mslexia, Butcher\u2019s Dog, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Interpreter\u2019s House <\/em>and Envoi<\/em>. She tweets @sciencegirl73 .<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" December Now the sun knocks off early, slinks away behind the garage. You go out to catch the last rays but he’s gone so you head up the hill to the still-sunlit top, the cart track all mud and stones, and watch the light turn green, a […]<\/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":[97],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18064","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-twelve-days-of-christmas-2018"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18064","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=18064"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18064\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18152,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18064\/revisions\/18152"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18064"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18064"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18064"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nslinks away behind the garage.
\nYou go out to catch the last rays
\nbut he’s gone<\/p>\n
\nto the still-sunlit top,
\nthe cart track all mud and stones,
\nand watch the light turn green,
\na star in the corner of your eye.<\/p>\n
\nwhen you stumble down in the dark,
\nunder a d\u00e9coupage of twigs,
\nsettling hedge birds
\nand navy sky,<\/p>\n
\nkick off your boots on the mat,
\nand the room is a blaze of light,
\nthe day outside turned shiny black
\nlike a shut-down screen.<\/p>\n
\nthan the Great Wall of China. You can measure
\nthe moving coastlines like someone on a train<\/p>\n
\nthemselves a tireless runner, leaping hedges,
\ntrees and houses, or in your case, oceans,<\/p>\n
\nlike turning a light on, like x ray. You can choose
\na city to focus on. It’s almost New Year’s Day<\/p>\n
\nyou can watch the flare of fireworks in the darkness
\nas cities come alight and, in the distance,<\/p>\n
\nover the horizon. On the moon who knows
\nwhat time it is, what day or year or month.<\/p>\n
\nby the earth in all those dried up seas.<\/p>\n
\nif it will be water. It chessboards<\/p>\n
\nand monochroming them out<\/p>\n
\nThey are helpless against the freeze,<\/p>\n
\nwait. They seem unconcerned,<\/p>\n
\non the edge of things.<\/p>\n
\nand go, when they should stay, means death.<\/p>\n
\na beating heart in a ribcage of bare hawthorn boughs.<\/p>\n
\na confusion of clues. What do you choose?<\/p>\n