{"id":55877,"date":"2019-06-23T02:47:38","date_gmt":"2019-06-23T06:47:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=55877"},"modified":"2019-06-23T02:47:49","modified_gmt":"2019-06-23T06:47:49","slug":"hour-nineteen-apology-masculinity","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/hour-nineteen-apology-masculinity\/","title":{"rendered":"Hour nineteen: Apology: masculinity"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left\">my masculinity hits my giggle with a shovel &amp; churns it<br \/>\ninto mud and gravel. it runs a thick hand down<br \/>\nmy stomach &amp; turns the mirror away, cracks open<br \/>\nmy bones &amp; sucks out the please and thank you.<br \/>\nwhen a man grabs me in the club, it is both my ready fists<br \/>\n&amp; my silence after. my masculinity crushes my tear ducts<br \/>\nin its fists &amp; lets them drip onto the floor when I&#8217;m alone,<br \/>\ncrushed like beer bottle caps. it says that I am always<br \/>\nthe shoulder &amp; never the one made small by grief<br \/>\n&amp; collapsed into an embrace. it replaces my spine<br \/>\nwith a steel rod, yanks back my hairline &amp; burns<br \/>\nthe skirts in the back of my closet. it scrapes<br \/>\nthe deadname from my tongue with a sawblade, leaves me<br \/>\nto choke on the blood. it sniffs my cologne for any hint of \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0flowers &amp; insists I must smell like tobacco and burnt \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0pinewood, that all growth begins with destruction.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; my masculinity hits my giggle with a shovel &amp; churns it into mud and gravel. it runs a thick hand down my stomach &amp; turns the mirror away, cracks open my bones &amp; sucks out the please and thank you. when a man grabs&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1091,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-55877","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/55877","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\/1091"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=55877"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/55877\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":55885,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/55877\/revisions\/55885"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=55877"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=55877"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=55877"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}