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The Woman Who Drank Us Up<\/strong><\/p>\n She was the woman who drank us up, She was the woman who smeared our lids with honey Each day, we were tilted to her lips, a flawless set, to be unfilled, She was the woman who pulled down moons to make candles, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lesley Quayle<\/strong> is a poet, author and folk\/blues singer.\u00a0 Her most recent collection Sessions<\/em> was published by Indigo Dreams Press. She is currently working on another collection and a novel.<\/p>\n Note: This poem won second prize in Second Light Competition and appeared in Parents<\/em> anthology<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Woman Who Drank Us Up She was the woman who drank us up, gripped us in her graveyard grasp and drained us, until we were almost uncreated, loose skin and slack bones. She was the woman who smeared our lids with honey until blisters, sugar pink and sweet the way she […]<\/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-8339","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8339","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=8339"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8339\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8341,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8339\/revisions\/8341"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8339"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8339"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8339"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ngripped us in her graveyard grasp and drained us,
\nuntil we were almost uncreated, loose skin and slack bones.<\/p>\n
\nuntil blisters, sugar pink and sweet the way she liked, frosted views,
\nextinguished stars, volcanoes, whole shining landscapes.<\/p>\n
\nshe swallowed us, the bitter juices, iron blood, the frothy head,
\nsavoured her duty in the way that martyrs nurse small flames.<\/p>\n
\npressed them in hot wax to lock in light,
\nwho even sipped the perfect dark of dreaming.<\/p>\n