{"id":111571,"date":"2022-06-25T15:41:50","date_gmt":"2022-06-25T19:41:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/?p=111571"},"modified":"2022-06-25T15:41:50","modified_gmt":"2022-06-25T19:41:50","slug":"hour-seven-portrait-of-a-gremlin-child-grown-up","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2022\/06\/hour-seven-portrait-of-a-gremlin-child-grown-up\/","title":{"rendered":"HOUR SEVEN ~ Portrait of a Gremlin Child Grown Up"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><b>PORTRAIT OF A GREMLIN CHILD GROWN UP<\/b><\/p>\n<p><i>~for Peyton, and the mullberries<\/i><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>the adult in me is a color vampire<\/p>\n<p>draining the rich greenness out of the woods<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>what I touch I consume<\/p>\n<p>what I consume is left listless<\/p>\n<p>straining into something like classy<\/p>\n<p>the way a gold sharpie can lend an air of wealth<\/p>\n<p>without the breath to taste any aura of illusion<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>this wasn\u2019t always the way<\/p>\n<p>once there was wildness<\/p>\n<p>berry-stained exuberance &amp; gremlin delight<\/p>\n<p>the way memes, like poetry, capture a heart<\/p>\n<p>without daring to think next of how to tame it<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>the adult in me is hungry &amp; ugly &amp; bruised<\/p>\n<p>&amp; more than anything ashamed of all this being<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>so do I wish myself back into color?<\/p>\n<p>are you wishing with me, climbing up into the brambles?<\/p>\n<p>do I turn pages hoping for another splash,<\/p>\n<p>berries again this time instead of wine?<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>choosing grass stains over sex sweat or maybe<\/p>\n<p>only so simple as choosing not to choose<\/p>\n<p>my sorrow above my joy<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>our sorrows and our joys share us all in time<\/p>\n<p>scratched arms and full bellies go together<\/p>\n<p>choosing to love like I don\u2019t know my own hurts<\/p>\n<p>reaching to see the colors I can give instead of take<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>PORTRAIT OF A GREMLIN CHILD GROWN UP ~for Peyton, and the mullberries &nbsp; the adult in me is a color vampire draining the rich greenness out of the woods &nbsp; what I touch I consume what I consume is left listless straining into something like&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1491,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-111571","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111571","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1491"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=111571"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111571\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":112305,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111571\/revisions\/112305"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=111571"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=111571"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=111571"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}