{"id":9384,"date":"2015-10-30T08:00:46","date_gmt":"2015-10-30T08:00:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=9384"},"modified":"2015-09-23T11:31:33","modified_gmt":"2015-09-23T11:31:33","slug":"sally-douglas-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/sally-douglas-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Sally Douglas"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>\u00a0Caught<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>Call me Ishmael,<\/em> he said.<\/p>\n<p>The name had never mattered.<br \/>\nIt was the immediacy of it all,<br \/>\ncreeping through the mouseness of night.<br \/>\nHours to go till light would strain<br \/>\nthe seams of other people\u2019s sleep.<\/p>\n<p>The heels were high, and clacked like<br \/>\ntongues. So I swung them from my fingers<br \/>\nand the pavement<br \/>\ncut my feet.<\/p>\n<p>But down at the seafront, where<br \/>\nblank kiosks slept,<br \/>\nand the flat sands glimmered just beyond eyes,<br \/>\nI dropped the shoes<br \/>\nand let him lick the salt from my skin.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Sally Douglas<\/strong> lives in Devon, UK. She has been published in various journals, including <em>The Rialto, Ambit <\/em>and<em> Envoi.<\/em> Her collection <em>Candling the Eggs<\/em> is published by Cinnamon Press. She blogs very intermittently at <a href=\"http:\/\/sallydouglas.blogspot.co.uk\/\" target=\"_blank\">http:\/\/sallydouglas.blogspot.co.uk\/<\/a> where a selection of her poetry, including extracts from the book, can be found.<\/p>\n<p>Previously published in <em>Candling the Eggs,<\/em> Cinnamon Press, 2011.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; \u00a0Caught Call me Ishmael, he said. The name had never mattered. It was the immediacy of it all, creeping through the mouseness of night. Hours to go till light would strain the seams of other people\u2019s sleep. The heels were high, and clacked like tongues. So I swung them from my fingers [&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-9384","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9384","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=9384"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9384\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9387,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9384\/revisions\/9387"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9384"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9384"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9384"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}