<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u00a0Sign<\/strong><\/p>\n There is a dull grey shimmer you get as it starts to simmer the surface, there is a sign but unmistakeably cold. a blanket smoothed. My eye I like that shimmer. I like that I cannot read the words <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Gordon Meade<\/strong> is a Scottish poet, now living in London. He divides his time between his own writing and running creative writing courses for vulnerable young people. He is also a Royal Literary Fund Writing Fellow most recently attached to the University of Dundee.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u00a0Sign There is a dull grey shimmer on the surface of the water in the harbour and the same sort of restlessness you get as it starts to simmer in a pan. Although it is not hot, it looks as though it should be. Above the surface, there is a sign I cannot […]<\/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-5090","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5090","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=5090"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5090\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5093,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5090\/revisions\/5093"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5090"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5090"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5090"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\non the surface of the water in the harbour
\nand the same sort of restlessness<\/p>\n
\nin a pan. Although it is not hot, it looks
\nas though it should be. Above<\/p>\n
\nI cannot make out and, beyond that,
\nthe open sea. It, too, is grey<\/p>\n
\nThe movement is different too. Like
\na carpet being unrolled, or<\/p>\n
\nkeeps returning to the water enclosed
\nby the arms of the harbour.<\/p>\n
\nthe idea of its imaginary simmer. And,
\nmost of all, I like the fact<\/p>\n
\nthat someone, sometime or other, made
\nthe effort to nail above it.<\/p>\n