{"id":32410,"date":"2017-08-05T10:32:42","date_gmt":"2017-08-05T14:32:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=32410"},"modified":"2017-08-05T10:32:42","modified_gmt":"2017-08-05T14:32:42","slug":"poem-2-yearn","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2017\/08\/poem-2-yearn\/","title":{"rendered":"Poem 2: Yearn"},"content":{"rendered":"<p style=\"text-align: center\">I do not shear my hair,<br \/>\nHave never donned flannel,<br \/>\nKnow nothing about drywall<br \/>\nOr changing my oil.<br \/>\nNo labrys tattoo<br \/>\nSlices across my bicep.<br \/>\nI do not sing in the key of rainbow.<\/p>\n<p>I roar through the world,<br \/>\nfat, elegant, and loud.<br \/>\nrolls slapping and rumbling,<br \/>\nmy smiles snagging eyes<br \/>\nlike foxtails in my socks.<br \/>\nI am 300 pounds of gloriously visible<br \/>\ngravitational pull.<br \/>\nTry and look away.<\/p>\n<p>But labryses cut deep,<br \/>\nand slices of me flake<br \/>\naway, unknown and unheard.<\/p>\n<p>Maybe I yearn.<br \/>\nMaybe my body chants<br \/>\nhot rhythms of desire.<br \/>\nMaybe my fingers twitch toward her.<br \/>\nMaybe my breath dances<br \/>\nto the beat of her footsteps.<br \/>\nMaybe my curves seek to<br \/>\nmold themselves to her bulk.<br \/>\nMaybe we could burn, hot and sweet,<br \/>\nsome kind of meteor entering<br \/>\nthe drag of atmosphere.<br \/>\nMaybe my words praise her,<br \/>\nmy belly ripples in need,<br \/>\nmy hair longs to snag in her fingers.<br \/>\nMaybe I belong.<\/p>\n<p>Or maybe not.<\/p>\n<p>I am a giant, a ball of fire<br \/>\ncircling the sky.<br \/>\nI can cook the ignorant<br \/>\nand blind the unwary.<br \/>\nI rage in silent splendor,<br \/>\nspilling heat and attention,<br \/>\nbody clapping<br \/>\nin appreciation<br \/>\nso deep.<\/p>\n<p>Maybe she burns, too.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I do not shear my hair, Have never donned flannel, Know nothing about drywall Or changing my oil. No labrys tattoo Slices across my bicep. I do not sing in the key of rainbow. I roar through the world, fat, elegant, and loud. rolls slapping&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":697,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32410","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32410","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\/697"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=32410"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32410\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32424,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32410\/revisions\/32424"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=32410"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=32410"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=32410"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}