<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Chorus Girl<\/strong><\/p>\n In the night she comes, knocking at the glass, Restful at last, her eyes a loving murk; <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jennie Owen<\/strong> is a University Lecturer in Creative Writing, and has been a Senior Editor for the on-line journal Black Market Review<\/em> since 2008. She is also a member of Skelmersdale Writers’ Group.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Chorus Girl In the night she comes, knocking at the glass, Poe-ish, in her petrol sheen, midnight neglig\u00e9e, brazen eye, a voyeur, between the curtains. Blackbird, aren\u2019t you supposed to sing at this time of night? Not these yellow beaked seductions Morse Code-gavelled to the brain, while dawn peek-a-boos the edges of the […]<\/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-6427","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6427","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=6427"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6427\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6430,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6427\/revisions\/6430"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6427"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6427"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6427"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nPoe-ish, in her petrol sheen, midnight neglig\u00e9e,
\nbrazen eye, a voyeur, between the curtains.
\nBlackbird, aren\u2019t you supposed
\nto sing at this time of night?
\nNot these yellow beaked seductions
\nMorse Code-gavelled to the brain,
\nwhile dawn peek-a-boos the edges of the pane.<\/p>\n
\na black shaped bequest spied through glass.
\nPussy plaything, curdled, rigid and frail.
\nReclined on the doormat, a murderous hangover;
\none less chorus girl kicking up her tail.<\/p>\n