<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
With Persimmon<\/strong><\/p>\n Little things catch in my throat at Christmas:<\/p>\n noticing more cracked mugs, the concrete<\/p>\n corner of our kitchen which is still unlinoed;<\/p>\n the matchsticks that still prop white tiles.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n At the table, I lose tally of our daily<\/p>\n uneaten fruit: a still life of shrunken apples,<\/p>\n hardened oranges and dented melons.<\/p>\n The ghost-thin space between them widens.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We no longer need to count places.<\/p>\n Sometimes now it’s easier to pretend<\/p>\n tears are invisible. Unleashed words<\/p>\n stop laughter; absence grows bigger.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n But when I hoover this year’s tinsel<\/p>\n from the carpet, the vacuum refuses<\/p>\n to choke down its silver glitter<\/p>\n with the tree\u2019s loosed needles.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Later, I choose a persimmon and cut<\/p>\n the crisp-skinned flesh into thin circles<\/p>\n that reveal their petalled hearts.<\/p>\n I lay them out just as my Nan used to:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n an offering of sliced stars on each plate.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sarah James<\/strong> is an award-winning poet, short fiction writer and journalist. The Magnetic Diaries<\/em>, a narrative in poems, is published by Knives, Forks and Spoons Press in April 2015 and her fourth poetry collection, plenty-fish<\/em>, by Nine Arches Press at the end of 2015. Her website is at www.sarah-james.co.uk and she is editor at V. Press<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Star of Light<\/strong><\/p>\n The moon came ten miles home with me And later she followed me back two hundred miles A comet sailed alongside Finnair when I flew to you On the Anatolian plain I understood <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sarah Watkinson<\/strong> is a scientist with a 2012 Oxford University Diploma in Creative writing. Her poetry can be found in Pennine Platform, The Poet\u2019s House Oxford\u00a0 The Morning Star online: <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Light Collector<\/strong><\/p>\n You wait in shadow, face upturned <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joanne Key<\/strong> lives in Cheshire. She writes poetry and has recently completed an MA in Contemporary Arts at MMU Cheshire.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" With Persimmon Little things catch in my throat at Christmas: noticing more cracked mugs, the concrete corner of our kitchen which is still unlinoed; the matchsticks that still prop white tiles. At the table, I lose tally of our daily uneaten fruit: a still life of shrunken apples, hardened oranges and […]<\/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":[37],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7934","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-twelve-days-of-christmas-2014"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7934","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=7934"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7934\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23962,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7934\/revisions\/23962"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7934"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7934"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7934"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nafter Aladdin at the Alhambra.
\nMust have left Bradford in the dark.<\/p>\n
\nfrom King\u2019s Cross, gliding past lit kitchen windows
\nand the glimmer of villages, reappearing after every station.<\/p>\n
\nacross Siberia, eight hours of dark snow,
\nand vanished as we met in the morning light of Kansai.<\/p>\n
\nonly fixed stars are beacons, landmarks
\nbetween us and Infinity.<\/p>\n
\nNutshells & Nuggets and The Stare\u2019s Nest.\u00a0 She tweets\u00a0 @philonotis<\/p>\n
\nand luminous, resting in the palms of a day.
\nI hope the first pale kiss of sun wakes you
\nbefore morphine finds work for an idle mind
\nand calls you deeper in, to follow the arc of a falling star.
\nLast night, I dreamt of you as a Light Collector.
\nYou told me how you loved your work, how happy
\nyou were trapped inside yourself. God only knows,
\nit broke my heart to see you grabbing at thin air
\nfor every glowing rat’s tail that scurried
\npast your eyelids, away under the door.
\nI cried when I saw you, waist deep, wading out
\nto skim that thin skin of varnish off a body
\nof black water. In the dark field, your frantic hands
\nrubbing the floor, looking for buttercups.
\nHow skilled you were at splitting a straight line
\nof shine from every rod of cold steel, expertly
\nbending it back on itself, making a grappling hook
\nto swing out into nothingness.
\nLater, when the worry inside me
\nbecame rowdy with neon monsters,
\nyou slipped through that small window
\nin the bowl of my wine glass and I watched you,
\nso strong and tiny, casting yourself out
\nonto every bubble making its own way up;
\nthose small balloons of light, popping,
\nand me topping-up just to watch you drop
\nback down to the bottom, start again, no end in sight.<\/p>\n