{"id":33743,"date":"2017-08-05T12:39:47","date_gmt":"2017-08-05T16:39:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=33743"},"modified":"2017-08-05T12:41:20","modified_gmt":"2017-08-05T16:41:20","slug":"hour-4-handshake-in-the-womb","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2017\/08\/hour-4-handshake-in-the-womb\/","title":{"rendered":"hour 4: handshake in the womb"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>Umma <\/em>and I have an understanding of sorts\u2014<br \/>\nwe must have shaken hands on it when I was in the womb\u2014<br \/>\nthat even if she lied, her presence would be honest.<\/p>\n<p>I always feel the lie,<br \/>\nthe ease in our conversation sputters<br \/>\nto a halt.<br \/>\nOur backs are stiff and straight like<br \/>\nwe are leaning on double-edged swords.<br \/>\nIt is precarious<br \/>\nto acknowledge the untruth in the other,<br \/>\nso we choke on the air between us, hold our breaths.<br \/>\nWe must have shaken hands on it when I was in the womb\u2014<\/p>\n<p>I remember coming home from school<br \/>\nto find her on the floor, legs neatly beneath her,<br \/>\nand as she recounted the way her youngest sister died,<br \/>\nher hands were busy at work with something<br \/>\nunimportant but distracting enough<br \/>\nfor her voice to hide the pain<br \/>\nthat her body made clear.<br \/>\nWe must have shaken hands on it when I was in the womb\u2014<br \/>\nI sat there<br \/>\ncradling my backpack instead of<br \/>\nher broken heart.<\/p>\n<p>I remember the way she screamed<br \/>\nand the next second, my eyes found the tree,<br \/>\nand him<br \/>\nand the noose.<br \/>\nAnd the leaves broke her fall and<br \/>\nwiped away her tears,<br \/>\nwhile I stood and watched from a distance.<br \/>\nOnly when the man walking his dog found us<br \/>\nand told me to comfort my mother<br \/>\nbefore dialing for help<br \/>\ndid I touch her.<br \/>\n<em>Umma <\/em>and I have an understanding of sorts.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Umma and I have an understanding of sorts\u2014 we must have shaken hands on it when I was in the womb\u2014 that even if she lied, her presence would be honest. I always feel the lie, the ease in our conversation sputters to a halt&#8230;.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1002,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-33743","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33743","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\/1002"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=33743"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33743\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":33770,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33743\/revisions\/33770"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=33743"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=33743"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=33743"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}