{"id":1864,"date":"2018-11-26T08:17:53","date_gmt":"2018-11-26T15:17:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/?p=1864"},"modified":"2018-11-26T17:03:04","modified_gmt":"2018-11-27T00:03:04","slug":"the-siren-in-the-cenote-by-lisa-bradley","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/?p=1864","title":{"rendered":"The Siren in the Cenote by Lisa M. Bradley"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

A gentle distortion draws me:
\nmy voice, but deeper, a register
\nI recognize from wistful dreams.<\/p>\n

As I sleepwalk the stone basin,
\nan elf owl yips, rousing me.
\nI glance back to the ridge where<\/p>\n

friends wreath the campfire.
\nExhausted by exile, my chosen tribe
\nsleeps dreamless as the night is moonless.<\/p>\n

None misses me yet, so I spiral down
\nto search out my other voice.
\nDeep in want, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m engulfed,<\/p>\n

unaware I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve entered the earth\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s maw
\nuntil Death titters to itself
\nin bird and bat and lizard bone<\/p>\n

snapped underfoot. Ahead
\nI sense a void but still I walk
\nthe narrowing corridor, my elbows<\/p>\n

scraping the earth\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s craggy throat
\nand I wonder, When did I cover my ears?
\nPerhaps some counter-spell unwinds inside me,<\/p>\n

for, fear remembered, I crouch to crawl
\nto the cenote\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s oily-mirror edge.
\nI stare into the eye of the stone<\/p>\n

eager to greet my siren self\u00e2\u20ac\u201dsurely taller,
\nbroader-shouldered to shelter our deeper voice.
\nInstead, glaring back is the girl I almost forgot:<\/p>\n

Limp-braided. Round-chested. Survivor.<\/p>\n

She is the vessel of my dream.
\nTo drown her is to doom him.
\nBoth are equally Me.<\/p>\n

I recoil from the cenote\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s edge.
\nThe hungry ghost churns my reflection,
\nraging but powerless to force sacrifice<\/p>\n

from mere disappointment, not despair.
\nI flee the ravening dark, running
\ntoward night, firelight, friends.<\/p>\n

Up and out, I emerge
\nknowing the moon is not missing,
\nmerely waiting.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A gentle distortion draws me: my voice, but deeper, a register I recognize from wistful dreams. As I sleepwalk the stone basin, an elf owl yips, rousing me. I glance back to the ridge where friends wreath the campfire. Exhausted by exile, my chosen tribe sleeps dreamless as the night is moonless. None misses me […]<\/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-1864","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1864","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=1864"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1864\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1869,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1864\/revisions\/1869"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1864"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1864"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1864"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}