{"id":6248,"date":"2014-01-23T09:00:09","date_gmt":"2014-01-23T09:00:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=6248"},"modified":"2014-01-20T16:20:11","modified_gmt":"2014-01-20T16:20:11","slug":"ruth-stacey-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/ruth-stacey-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Ruth Stacey"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>IV<\/strong> (From <em>Fox-Boy<\/em>)<\/p>\n<p>The hospital lights are rushing<br \/>\nbright; smile cannot be unpicked from<br \/>\nher lips, the nurses coo to each other<br \/>\nand peep around the door,<\/p>\n<p>Come and look<br \/>\nIs this the baby with all the hair?<br \/>\nOh, isn\u2019t he beautiful, look<br \/>\nLook, at all his hair \u2013<br \/>\nWhere is he from?<\/p>\n<p>Here, he\u2019s from here.<\/p>\n<p>In the street she carries him in<br \/>\na striped sling, close to her heart\u2013<br \/>\nshe cannot be apart from his wily<br \/>\nbeats: people<\/p>\n<p>jostle to look at his face<br \/>\ninvade the space between mother<br \/>\nand child, she is kind though<br \/>\nand she doesn\u2019t mind them stroking<br \/>\nhim, except when they say:<\/p>\n<p>What is he?<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Ruth Stacey\u00a0<\/strong> writes poems in the fleeting spaces between motherhood and studying Native American Literature. It is not the easiest way to be a writer, but it is her way.\u00a0 <a href=\"http:\/\/ruthstacey.com\/\" target=\"_blank\">This is her website.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; IV (From Fox-Boy) The hospital lights are rushing bright; smile cannot be unpicked from her lips, the nurses coo to each other and peep around the door, Come and look Is this the baby with all the hair? Oh, isn\u2019t he beautiful, look Look, at all his hair \u2013 Where is he from? [&hellip;]<\/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-6248","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6248","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=6248"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6248\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6288,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6248\/revisions\/6288"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6248"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6248"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6248"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}