{"id":1459,"date":"2017-07-17T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2017-07-17T15:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/?p=1459"},"modified":"2017-07-16T09:09:22","modified_gmt":"2017-07-16T16:09:22","slug":"1459","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/?p=1459","title":{"rendered":"The Witch Woman By Alexandra Seidel"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

Her bones vibrate with song.
\nShe is the lute strung with flesh.
\nYou would have to touch her to hear.
\nYou would have to touch her to understand<\/p>\n

I am descended from a line of witches
\nstretching all the way back to the age of fires.
\nWe never burned, but oh, we own the heat.
\nCoals are ice in our hands, and hearts
\nnot brittle fantastical things that break,
\nbut bloody muscle that fits in our hands.<\/p>\n

Her hands are always lined with sand, earth.
\nShe is a pilgrim looking for pearls in a desert.
\nYou would have to follow her to know what she really wants.
\nYou would have to stop looking at her to really see.<\/p>\n

I am like the wandering wind, nothing
\nlike all these brave women before me. They
\nowned the earth they were born on, and I
\nhave forgotten the place where my mother gave me life
\nand left her own to sing with shadows.
\nAnd if Death is my home, I choose not to want it.<\/p>\n

Her coat is the sky made from starlight and ice.
\nShe never hungers even if her mouth is always dry.
\nYou would have to think up the well
\ndeep enough to slake her thirst.<\/p>\n

I am no longer without shadow.
\nI am no longer star-hidden, ice-cowled.
\nOnce they feel your flesh, once they really see you,
\nall they want is bind you to their earth, home they call it.
\nShadows form when you stop moving with the stars,
\nwhen you bow your head to the sun.<\/p>\n

Her bones glow like molten gold,
\nHer heart as if caught by the lute’s string.
\nShe will take the fruit from your hand and eat.
\nYou would have to catch her shadow in a well to make her drink.<\/p>\n

Illustration is Hexen by Hans Baldung, 1508<\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Her bones vibrate with song. She is the lute strung with flesh. You would have to touch her to hear. You would have to touch her to understand I am descended from a line of witches stretching all the way back to the age of fires. We never burned, but oh, we own the heat. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[17],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1459","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1459"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1459\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1465,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1459\/revisions\/1465"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}