{"id":588,"date":"2010-03-17T10:26:27","date_gmt":"2010-03-17T10:26:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=588"},"modified":"2020-12-09T11:59:46","modified_gmt":"2020-12-09T11:59:46","slug":"matt-merritt-reaches-the-limits","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/matt-merritt-reaches-the-limits\/","title":{"rendered":"Matt Merritt reaches the limits"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Limits<\/span>

Thursday, early, you reach them. Sometime<\/span>
between seven and eight. Somewhere between<\/span>
earth and sky, the one becoming the other<\/span>
a hundred yards further on, the whole scene<\/span>
a sculpture in ice, and you feel it slide away<\/span>
from under you. Not the way you\u2019re led to imagine,<\/span>
an abrupt stop in the motion of the world, or time,<\/span>
the sped-through showreel of memory, a feeling<\/span>
of unconditional love and a glimpse of the light<\/span>
at the far end of everything. The opposite, in fact.<\/span>
They both roll on without you while you wait \u2013<\/span>
wheel loose and useless in both hands,<\/span>
headlights eyeing you greedily up ahead \u2013 for the bite<\/span>
of traction, for the cold earth to catch<\/span>
and hold you again, then you\u2019re speeding away<\/span>
from what you\u2019ll barely recall six months from now,<\/span>
while the next time lies beyond a thin white line,<\/span>
where snow is already folding upon snow.<\/p>\n

* Matt Merritt<\/span> is a poet and journalist from Leicester. His first full collection, Troy Town<\/span>, was published by Arrowhead in 2008, and a chapbook, Making The Most Of The Light,<\/span> by HappenStance in 2005. A second collection is forthcoming from Nine Arches. He blogs at http:\/\/polyolbion.blogspot.com\/<\/a>
<\/span><\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The LimitsThursday, early, you reach them. Sometimebetween seven and eight. Somewhere betweenearth and sky, the one becoming the othera hundred yards further on, the whole scenea sculpture in ice, and you feel it slide awayfrom under you. Not the way you\u2019re led to imagine,an abrupt stop in the motion of the world, or time,the sped-through […]<\/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-588","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/588","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=588"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/588\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23663,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/588\/revisions\/23663"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=588"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=588"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=588"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}