<\/p>\n
Pick of the Month May 2015<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Another Canaan<\/strong><\/p>\n There was a wasteland In the distance was something My mother said Rushaa Louise Hamid<\/strong> dances around London, discussing politics and perfecting her Dalek impression. Currently she is working on finishing the first drafts of a sci-fi novel and a slightly less sci-fi play. You can occasionally find her on Twitter @thesecondrussia<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Pick of the Month May 2015 Another Canaan There was a wasteland and cold tire tracks in the skin of the sand. I forgot I couldn’t breathe. In the distance was something I could crawl to; flat lands \u2013 these were like the lands of my childhood, a people that weren’t built for […]<\/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":[139,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8521","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2015-poetry-picks","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8521","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=8521"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8521\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23794,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8521\/revisions\/23794"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8521"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8521"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8521"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nand cold tire tracks in the skin of the sand.
\nI forgot I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n
\nI could crawl to;
\nflat lands \u2013 these were like the lands of my childhood,
\na people that weren’t built for inclines
\nbut to trundle on
\never looking past the haze of dust
\nand abandoning things that could not be carried.
\nIn the rush of feet and vehicles
\nwas a cry that all things must move forward,
\namongst the heat and pain,
\nwhere the dust had been beaten down into a solid block.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou’ve got fire in your bones and
\nnone in your blood,
\nand hot bones break,
\nand hot sand buries broken bones.\u201d
\nA crib lingers out in the heat
\nleftover from a broken moment
\nand I am leftover too<\/p>\n