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The Boy and the Mountain<\/strong><\/p>\n Did you ever think what those sleepers are that underlie the railroad? <\/em> Tissack, the soles of my shoes are worn, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Elisabeth Sennitt Clough<\/strong> lives in Norfolk with her husband and three children. In 2014 she won first prize in the Portico Brotherton Competition and third prize in the PENfro Competition. She has just written her first pamphlet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Boy and the Mountain Did you ever think what those sleepers are that underlie the railroad? Each one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them [\u2026]. They are sound sleepers, I assure you.\u00a0 \u2015Henry David Thoreau Tissack, the soles of my shoes are […]<\/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-9685","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9685","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=9685"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9685\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9688,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9685\/revisions\/9688"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9685"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9685"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9685"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nEach one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them <\/em>
\n[\u2026]. They are sound sleepers, I assure you.\u00a0<\/em>
\n\u2015Henry David Thoreau<\/p>\n
\nday is turning to night and I am cold
\nas reptile eyes. I watch the sky crack
\nthe moon apart over the plates in your skull,
\ngauze them in Tule fog. The sun has drawn
\nits glow down the blue skin of your neck
\nand on past your gold-rush homes, each one
\na snail to your mighty foothills
\nwhere my father sleeps among the track-ties,
\nunder the slack and snap of the narrow gauge,
\nhis bones echoing like pipes: their hollow, hollow sound.<\/p>\n