{"id":891,"date":"2015-02-23T09:19:33","date_gmt":"2015-02-23T16:19:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/?p=891"},"modified":"2015-02-22T18:24:10","modified_gmt":"2015-02-23T01:24:10","slug":"understand-by-mari-ness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/?p=891","title":{"rendered":"Understand, by Mari Ness"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Orpheus<\/a>

Orpheus by Forest Rogers<\/p><\/div>\n

Understand, I would not
\nhave followed her through those cold gates,
\nthe horn twisted with the gold,
\nwould have clung to the chill of winter,
\nthe hint of frost.
\nBut her ghost cried to me, called to me,
\nwrapping herself around my chest.
\nNot there.<\/p>\n

Yet I saw her, I saw her
\neverywhere:
\nthe cry of a bird,
\nthe snatch of song,
\na colorful rag,
\nher favorite figs —
\nHer. Her.
\nNo. Not there.<\/p>\n

I saw her. I saw her everywhere,
\nheard her, heard her everywhere.
\nLingered over her every word, her every move,
\nlingered, lingered over every thought,
\nsqueezing my memories like grapes,
\nuntil only the driest, darkest ones remained.
\nEach shadow —<\/p>\n

Her.
\nNot her.<\/p>\n

Caught, my breath, caught.
\nI slipped singing through those cold cold gates,
\npast the slow slow river, the endless shades,
\nthe slow boat to the cold grey halls.
\nI sang, I sang, and fetched her ghost,
\nwatched it merge with the shadows I clutched,
\nslowly spinning from my mind.<\/p>\n

You ask why I turned, why I did not wait
\nfor another glimpse of the cold blue skies,
\nto hold her beneath the trees’ sharp shadows,
\nbeneath the living wind. Why I turned
\nat the very gates, the far sun shining
\non my hands. I turned.
\nI had to know.
\nHer ghost, or the shadow
\nof my weaving,
\na shadow of
\nmy memory and song?<\/p>\n

Bound, she and I, to earth and dust,
\nI, a little longer, until I slip past those gates a second time,
\nand grasp her shadow, not our mingled own.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Understand, I would not have followed her through those cold gates, the horn twisted with the gold, would have clung to the chill of winter, the hint of frost. But her ghost cried to me, called to me, wrapping herself around my chest. Not there. Yet I saw her, I saw her everywhere: the cry […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-891","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/891","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=891"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/891\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":894,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/891\/revisions\/894"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=891"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=891"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.polutexni.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=891"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}