{"id":248,"date":"2011-05-05T16:08:22","date_gmt":"2011-05-05T16:08:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=248"},"modified":"2011-05-05T16:08:22","modified_gmt":"2011-05-05T16:08:22","slug":"two-short-poems-from-a-series-by-marion-mccready","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/two-short-poems-from-a-series-by-marion-mccready\/","title":{"rendered":"Two short poems from a series by Marion McCready"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><font style=\"font-family: Courier New,Courier,mono;\" size=\"2\">1<br style=\"font-weight: bold;\"><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">Brenhilda<\/span><\/p>\n<p>The river-sun whitens the birch wood trunks.\u2028<br \/>I lie as foreign as coloured glass amidst the mossy greens,\u2028<br \/>shadows of birds flying across my skin.\u2028<br \/>Shushing leaves fill the sky with the rush of the sea, \u2028<br \/>and above my closed eyes \u2028<br \/>the clouds become boats filled with Nessmen\u2028as <br \/>they sail to the gannet skerry\u2028<br \/>where they\u2019ll find me, in another life,<br \/>\u2028among the kittiwakes, the sea pinks,\u2028<br \/>cormorants feeding their young in my ribcage.<\/p>\n<p>3<br \/><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">Ashes<\/span><\/p>\n<p>I comb my hair<br \/>with dried seaweed.<br \/>The black pods of it,<br \/>like blood clots,<br \/>catch <br \/>so that even a gale <br \/>able to auction <br \/>off my dress, <br \/>if it so wished, <br \/>could not move <br \/>these signatories <br \/>of the sea;<br \/>the yellow flag iris <br \/>on the machair;<br \/>or your ashes <br \/>from under the earth.<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">*Marion McCready<\/span> lives in Dunoon, Argyll with her husband and two young children. Calder Wood Press are publishing her debut pamphlet, <a href=\"http:\/\/www.calderwoodpress.co.uk\/\"><span style=\"font-style: italic;\">Vintage Sea<\/span><\/a> this spring.<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>1Brenhilda The river-sun whitens the birch wood trunks.\u2028I lie as foreign as coloured glass amidst the mossy greens,\u2028shadows of birds flying across my skin.\u2028Shushing leaves fill the sky with the rush of the sea, \u2028and above my closed eyes \u2028the clouds become boats filled with Nessmen\u2028as they sail to the gannet skerry\u2028where they\u2019ll find me, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","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-248","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/248","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\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=248"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/248\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=248"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=248"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=248"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}