<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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Bluebeard’s Cousin<\/strong><\/p>\n Your red jacket\u2019s stark against the snow The sky is black above the mountains. His yellow eyes seem so loving and wise. The moon turns red, even the grass is bleeding, in virgin snow. With your stumps and your head He\u2019ll be staring forever into the black night, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mary Mulholland<\/strong>\u2019s poetry has been published in several anthologies and online, she\u2019s been regularly shortlisted in national competitions (eg Bridport), though yet to win, and is completing a Masters in Poetry through Newcastle University. She lives in London but frequently escapes.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Bluebeard’s Cousin Your red jacket\u2019s stark against the snow of the Welsh mountains. He\u2019s brought you to his home, where everyone\u2019s asleep. The sky is black above the mountains. You think you can hear the sea in the wind. He pulls you close. The trees wave hieroglyphs. His yellow eyes seem so […]<\/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-18413","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18413","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=18413"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18413\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18501,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18413\/revisions\/18501"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18413"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18413"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18413"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nof the Welsh mountains. He\u2019s brought you
\nto his home, where everyone\u2019s asleep.<\/p>\n
\nYou think you can hear the sea in the wind.
\nHe pulls you close. The trees wave hieroglyphs.<\/p>\n
\nHe boasts no woman has ever left him,
\nthen slices off your hands and your feet.<\/p>\n
\nthe rowan drop a branch which he breaks in two.
\nOne end is sharp. Now he\u2019s washing his hands<\/p>\n
\nyou thrill the rowan point into his heart
\nand how the wind howls through that hole.<\/p>\n
\nbut your hands will grow back, your feet return,
\nand you\u2019ll leave the mountains, the melting snow.<\/p>\n