<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
August, Departing <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Gillian Prew<\/strong> lives in Scotland and is the author of two recent chapbooks, Disconnections<\/em> (erbacce-press<\/a> ) and In the Broken Things<\/em> (Virgogray Press <\/a>). \u00a0She has twice been short-listed for the erbacce-prize. She likes cats, crows and Dylan Thomas. Her personal website can be found at http:\/\/gillianprew.com<\/span> <\/a> August, Departing Here\u2019s the stain, heaved out and an orchard of clouds sleeping. The crows flee warm fugitives on August\u2019s blunt edge. I see a distant coldness, the skirt of the sun shirking. The tide is loud with the drowned and the windy chains of gulls. The air smells of salty bone and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"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-3909","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3909","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=3909"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3909\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3911,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3909\/revisions\/3911"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3909"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3909"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3909"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong>
\nHere\u2019s the stain,
\nheaved out
\nand an orchard of clouds
\nsleeping. The crows flee
\nwarm fugitives
\non August\u2019s blunt edge. I see
\na distant coldness,
\nthe skirt of the sun shirking.
\nThe tide is loud with the drowned
\nand the windy chains of gulls.
\nThe air smells of salty bone
\nand the womb forgetting.
\nBy the rotting light I breathe,
\ncounting the pretty darknesses.<\/p>\n
\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"