{"id":18704,"date":"2016-08-13T10:43:58","date_gmt":"2016-08-13T14:43:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=18704"},"modified":"2016-08-13T10:43:58","modified_gmt":"2016-08-13T14:43:58","slug":"hour-two-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/hour-two-4\/","title":{"rendered":"Hour Two"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>I can&#8217;t write a love poem.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m thinking too much about loss.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m thinking of the time when you came to my window<\/p>\n<p>I was fifteen, you were Starlight Incarnate<\/p>\n<p>in a borrowed ride, a black Toyota Celica<\/p>\n<p>that you weren&#8217;t even driving.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m thinking about the night you went dancing<\/p>\n<p>but came to my place instead, you called me<\/p>\n<p>from the Bauhaus (your favorite coffeeshop? Mine too!)<\/p>\n<p>after years apart, yet always somehow together.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>You would never play the song from our wedding<\/p>\n<p>because it made you cry, and I teased you<\/p>\n<p>for being sentimental, and teased you again,<\/p>\n<p>for taking me to see Apocalypse Now on our honeymoon.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m thinking about my picture of you<\/p>\n<p>holding our baby in your hospital bed<\/p>\n<p>nested in wires like a Geiger nightmare<\/p>\n<p>a man staring down the twin barrels of life and death.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m thinking about you leaving, always leaving<\/p>\n<p>family night, date night, weekends with the parents and you<\/p>\n<p>constantly inching toward the door, your black bag<\/p>\n<p>and coat permanently under your arm.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>You got stoned and slept on the couch,<\/p>\n<p>and I went out and stayed out later<\/p>\n<p>as we became quietly unmoored from eachother.<\/p>\n<p>Until, even together, we were somehow always apart.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m thinking that a love poem is a loss poem.<\/p>\n<p>The seed holds implicit the certain promise<\/p>\n<p>that one cold day the plant will wither,<\/p>\n<p>it&#8217;s frail brown stalk will crumble and be done.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I can&#8217;t write a love poem. I&#8217;m thinking too much about loss. &nbsp; I&#8217;m thinking of the time when you came to my window I was fifteen, you were Starlight Incarnate in a borrowed ride, a black Toyota Celica that you weren&#8217;t even driving. &nbsp;&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":188,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18704","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18704","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\/188"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18704"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18704\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18714,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18704\/revisions\/18714"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18704"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18704"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18704"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}