<\/p>\n
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The Distaff Side<\/strong><\/p>\n Looms dragging red kisses <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Rachel Simons<\/strong> is a Welsh writer and artist. She grew up near the sea but now uses Roath Park Lake to get her fix of water-watching. By day, she works in the voluntary sector with people who are homeless or vulnerably housed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Distaff Side Looms dragging red kisses on the inside of the knees we clutched to our chests by night. As Penelope and her girls unpicked theirs we dreamt of ours, under the weft-side of the sky. The girl had weaved for just one day, before the spindle bit. Pain folded her […]<\/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-5042","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5042","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=5042"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5042\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5045,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5042\/revisions\/5045"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5042"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5042"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5042"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\non the inside of the knees
\nwe clutched to our chests by night.
\nAs Penelope and her girls unpicked theirs
\nwe dreamt of ours,
\nunder the weft-side of the sky.
\nThe girl had weaved for just one day,
\nbefore the spindle bit.
\nPain folded her knees, but
\nshe clung to the thread.
\nWound it around her finger,
\na band of colour as bright as the sun,
\non a day with no dusk,
\npromises as thick as buttercups.<\/p>\n