{"id":141798,"date":"2023-09-03T05:47:16","date_gmt":"2023-09-03T09:47:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=141798"},"modified":"2023-09-03T05:47:16","modified_gmt":"2023-09-03T09:47:16","slug":"2311","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2023\/09\/2311\/","title":{"rendered":"23~11"},"content":{"rendered":"<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>the pillowcase<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>tiny safety pins<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>old magazines<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>my mother screaming<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>running through the house<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>in agony<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>trying to hold<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>her floppy twisted arm<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>a gift from my father<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>pillowcase from my pillow<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>third grade me<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>was dreaming on<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>now pins to it&#8217;s twin<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>lined with glossy stiff paper<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>encircling her pain<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>my little fingers fasten<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>sharp pins of safety<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>still a bit groggy<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>until I see dad<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>who scares me<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>wide awake\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>who scares hurt her<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>both of us<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>saying nothing<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>again in the\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\"><em>emergency room<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right\">\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>the pillowcase tiny safety pins old magazines my mother screaming running through the house in agony trying to hold her floppy twisted arm a gift from my father pillowcase from my pillow third grade me was dreaming on now pins to it&#8217;s twin lined with&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":241,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-141798","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/141798","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\/241"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=141798"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/141798\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":141853,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/141798\/revisions\/141853"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=141798"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=141798"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=141798"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}