{"id":8303,"date":"2020-05-06T14:23:24","date_gmt":"2020-05-06T13:23:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cassandravoices.com\/?p=8303"},"modified":"2020-05-06T14:23:24","modified_gmt":"2020-05-06T13:23:24","slug":"poetry-alex-winter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/2020\/05\/06\/poetry-alex-winter\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry: Alex Winter"},"content":{"rendered":"

AREOPAGITE<\/strong><\/p>\n

The cloud moves, low, across the landscape,
\nleaving a slick of rainwater on the backs of cows.
\nIt passes through the mind of a priest
\nand into the eyes of a fourteen year old girl.
\nIt is a pestilence.\u00a0 A curse upon the territory.<\/p>\n

In the villages they are rasping for bread.
\nNo chickens hobble through the shit-strewn lanes.
\nDamp is a curse which slowly infiltrates
\nclothes, rafters, firewood, children\u2019s skin.
\nThe crops are sunk. The sheep are full of worms.<\/p>\n

You dole out sermons on disintegration.
\nAn aged woman is driven from her home
\nand burnt to cinders on a makeshift pyre.
\nThe chancel windows cast brightness inward,
\ntowards the stunted candles of the choir.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE RAM IN THE THICKET<\/strong><\/p>\n

It was a boutique hotel in the Dolomiti
\nand each door could be locked from inside by a golden key
\nand each key was hung with a sculpted animal.
\nHummingbird, hedgehog, fox or snake.
\nThe hotel offered a view across the lake.<\/p>\n

My room was cramped.\u00a0 Pushed up against the table
\nwas a bookcase which was nearly waist high.
\nIn it stood a copy of Fear and Trembling.
\nThe pale lettering along the spine reminded me
\nof the ubiquity of schizoid features.<\/p>\n

I took it with me to the loo.
\nOutside the rain was spitting.
\nThe lake surface was thatched with miniature waves.<\/p>\n

As I read about Isaac being tied down by his dad,
\nI heard an angel bellowing from heaven,
\n\u201cAbraham, ease off, untie the boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a denouement, there on the mountain.
\nThe angel came down. The angel flew.
\nA sharpness in my intestines.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PLAN FOR THE FUTURE<\/strong><\/p>\n

I’ve worked it out and we’re going to be just fine.
\nYour job will pay for mango and mine for baby wipes.
\nMy heart throbs dyspeptically when I think of our son.
\nWhere is he now? Does he wear leather and carry a scar?
\nI’m less than a man.\u00a0 I don’t even know how to drive.
\nOn the other hand I’ve worked out how to arrive on time.
\nI was sobbing all morning as my heart went out –
\nunlike the flames on Grenfell, which raged until lunch.
\nInside the staircases, lift shafts, flats, nothing withstood.
\nTears became gas.\u00a0 Screams caught fire and burned.
\nEverything that wasn’t blame became ersatz.
\nIt’s hard to stay focused.\u00a0 Our dreams are so grotty.
\nAnd the housekeeper creaks on the upstairs floor.
\nI picture her stroking her long Hispanic body,
\nwhich opens, closes, then empties itself completely.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

SICKERT<\/strong><\/p>\n

My arm across your body.
\nThese fingers ending in a brush.<\/p>\n

How the light falls on my shirtsleeve,
\ncausing the outline to crackle.<\/p>\n

In the background a green overcoat
\nhangs from a glass<\/p>\n

partly obscuring your neck and shoulder.
\nIt\u2019s mine.\u00a0 I\u2019m clothing you.<\/p>\n

You turn steadily toward me,
\nlike a satellite dish<\/p>\n

hacked into
\nby enemy agents.<\/p>\n

What, I wonder, do you withhold?
\nAnd how do I prise you open?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

HIATUS<\/strong><\/p>\n

Death coiled in one lung.
\n(Don\u2019t cough!)
\nLike a tilted ampersand
\nin a bed of alveoli.
\nBreathe gently.<\/p>\n

A skull beside an inkwell.
\nNot quite an \u2018objet\u2019,
\nbut artfully positioned.
\nWe look back.
\nTick… tick…<\/p>\n

Primo goes to it.
\nMounts the handrail.
\n96.5cm.\u00a0 For a short man,
\nnavel height.
\nTo fall he has to climb.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

AREOPAGITE The cloud moves, low, across the landscape, leaving a slick of rainwater on the backs of cows. It passes through the mind of a priest and into the eyes of a fourteen year old girl. It is a pestilence.\u00a0 A curse upon the territory. In the villages they are rasping for bread. No chickens […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":113,"featured_media":8327,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[408,648,1449,4083,7273,7332,7341,7353,9244],"class_list":["post-8303","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-alex-winter","tag-areopagite","tag-cassandra-voices-poetry","tag-hiatus","tag-plan-for-the-future","tag-poet-alex-winter","tag-poetry","tag-poetry-cassandra-voices","tag-the-ram-in-the-thicket"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8303","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/113"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8303"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8303\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8303"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8303"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8303"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}