<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Details<\/strong><\/p>\n Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile tempus,<\/em> Somehow they are lost. At the edge of the forest, A scrittle of feathery legs and impossibly The map must be wrong. So many trees! Foxes gallop past, pulling clouds drawn He spends thirty years eyeballing the beetle <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jane Lovell<\/strong> lives in Rugby, Warwickshire. Her poems, which have been published in a range of journals including Agenda, Poetry Wales<\/em> and Myslexia<\/em>, focus on our relationship with nature, from a flea wearing tiny jewelled boots created by a Russian miniaturist to a circus elephant butchered during food shortages in post-war Vienna. Threads of folklore and science run through her work.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Details Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile tempus, singula dum capti circumvectamur amore. Somehow they are lost. He consults his map while the wife unscrews her Thermos, pours a cup of tea. He takes it without looking up. They are in \u201850s light\u2019: a green tint to the sky and wearing large […]<\/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-5623","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5623","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=5623"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5623\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5625,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5623\/revisions\/5625"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5623"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5623"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5623"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nsingula dum capti circumvectamur amore.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nHe consults his map while the wife unscrews
\nher Thermos, pours a cup of tea.
\nHe takes it without looking up.
\nThey are in \u201850s light\u2019: a green tint to the sky
\nand wearing large shorts.<\/p>\n
\nsilver birches shed strips of parchment,
\nzigg\u00e8d leaves shivering on warty twigs catch his eye,
\ntiny buds he squeezes till his nails whiten.
\nHe tastes the oil upon his tongue:
\n\u03b1-copaene\u00a0 , germacrene , \u03b4-cadinene<\/em> .<\/p>\n
\nbeady eyes hold him in black suspicion:
\nScolytus ratzeburgi<\/em>, privately building its own map,
\na circuit-board metropolis below bark.
\nClaws rattle along to the tips. Little biter!
\nFire starter!
\nClick.
\nWatch the hieroglyphics smoulder.
\nMoths with flickering antennae rise like ash.<\/p>\n
\nHe tears at the bark, consults the Scarabaean
\nengravings, the ancient pathways.<\/p>\n
\nthrough flanges of the waning moon.
\nUnder this dog-yellow sky, tumbling and boiling,
\ndriven by the ratio of little teeth to vulpine speed,
\nhe falters, trying to remember, trying to picture
\nsomething that may have been important.
\nThe last hounds flop behind him, heaving
\nand panting.<\/p>\n
\nwhile the wife is quietly absorbed in cables of ivy,
\nin Trentepohlia<\/em> powdering the nearby beech,
\nblack scraps of nosto<\/em>c, all that remain of her bones.
\nNeither dares move in the knowledge their world
\nhas vanished.<\/p>\n