Is it still a proper brownstone
\nif it\u2019s in Jersey? Six broad brick
\nsteps open like arms, white concrete
\nbanister a hand in open gesture.
\nWelcome. Unit B. <\/p>\n
Does it matter if the details are wrong? Double doors slide apart, heavy as pianos Could it have worked? Us? <\/em><\/p>\n White and cobalt tile in the kitchen. How much lead was in that place? Window half open onto the fire escape. How is he? How is he? <\/em><\/p>\n Half a slanted closet waist high I\u2019m sweating the lead out. I\u2019m sweating Is it still a proper brownstone if it\u2019s in Jersey? Six broad brick steps open like arms, white concrete banister a hand in open gesture. Welcome. Unit B. Does it matter if the details are wrong? I tried. Double doors slide apart, heavy as pianos…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-49451","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49451","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\/1119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=49451"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49451\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":49575,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49451\/revisions\/49575"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=49451"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=49451"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=49451"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI tried. <\/em><\/p>\n
\neyed in lead glass. The color is almost
\ncream. Almost yellow. Warped
\nwooden floors spread
\nhardened pulled caramel, pulled taffy.
\nThe stained glass window stares onto the street
\nhigher than anyone can reach. Cobalt and
\ncadmium red and yellow orange azo
\nin a perfect lead-lined circle twelve feet up. <\/p>\n
\nPlastic bat lowered on fishing line
\nspinning, facing an iron barred window. Two
\nsquirrels stare in through more lead-lined glass. <\/p>\n
\nHow much lead in me? <\/em><\/p>\n
\nTwenty-four inches to save a life. Scrappy
\norange striped tom comes and goes. Habanero
\nis his own cat. The fire escape
\nis for smoking and confrontation. <\/p>\n
\nis meant for liquor and board games. Some books.
\nSome sheets. Enough space to hide a grown man
\nlike the crease of an overpass. Lead painted
\nwooden door. Lead paint flakes
\noff in layers. The door is more paint
\nthan wood. More lead than wood. <\/p>\n
\nyou out. Lead beads on my brow and down my back.
\nI\u2019m becoming clean again. <\/em> <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"