{"id":71027,"date":"2020-06-27T20:29:01","date_gmt":"2020-06-28T00:29:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=71027"},"modified":"2020-06-27T20:34:12","modified_gmt":"2020-06-28T00:34:12","slug":"prompt-12-first-or-last-line-where-everything-is-music","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/prompt-12-first-or-last-line-where-everything-is-music\/","title":{"rendered":"prompt #12: first or last line (where everything is music)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-71121 alignleft\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/shattered_glass.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"194\" height=\"194\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/shattered_glass.jpg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/shattered_glass-150x150.jpg 150w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/shattered_glass-45x45.jpg 45w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 194px) 100vw, 194px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Piecemeal<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>So many of my friends\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 even my family<\/p>\n<p>want labels. Want each part of me divided<\/p>\n<p>parsed into neatly organised boxes<\/p>\n<p>drawers\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 shelves\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 folders \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0trashcans<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>My hands should go into that grey box<\/p>\n<p>marked in black letters\u00a0\u00a0 <em>worker<\/em><\/p>\n<p>My ears should go into a piano bench<\/p>\n<p>tagged with a sticky note\u00a0\u00a0 <em>where everything is music<\/em><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>My feet quiescent in an old shoebox<\/p>\n<p>that bears the sticker <em>runner<\/em>. So many miles.<\/p>\n<p>Nearby a roll of foamcore holds a collage<\/p>\n<p>ravens and foxes and nautilus shells. <em>Y\u016bgen <\/em><\/p>\n<p>haunter of woods who has no words for green love.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Into this basket woven by Rwandan women<\/p>\n<p>I squish my ovaries\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0identified as \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<em>breeder<\/em><\/p>\n<p>not to be confused with <em>mother<\/em>, safely stored<\/p>\n<p>between the foxed pages of a thesaurus.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>On an adjacent shelf, beside a scarlet chop,<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/CHOP.bmp\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-71048 alignleft\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/CHOP.bmp\" alt=\"\" width=\"57\" height=\"37\" \/><\/a>my tattered <em>heart<\/em> nestles in a bird nest<\/p>\n<p>barely large enough to hold its unnamed pieces.<\/p>\n<p>Its wings are splinted now.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>An <em>arm<\/em> is wrapped in a threadbare infant quilt<\/p>\n<p>a cracked <em>knee<\/em> beneath a bronze tray<\/p>\n<p>inside a lacquered box a teacup\u00a0\u00a0 stained<\/p>\n<p>with tea leaves that knew the future once.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Somewhere among these scraps &amp; shards<\/p>\n<p>a compass might point north, and pieces<\/p>\n<p>heed a lodestone\u2019s call. But perhaps words<\/p>\n<p>are not music, and pieces never make a whole.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>But possibly\u2026 music is the skeleton of language<\/p>\n<p>and song lives within each name. I sing myself,<\/p>\n<p><em>gestalt<\/em> of broken pottery, torn pages, lost ribbon.<\/p>\n<p>I sing myself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Piecemeal &nbsp; So many of my friends\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 even my family want labels. Want each part of me divided parsed into neatly organised boxes drawers\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 shelves\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 folders \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0trashcans &nbsp; My hands should go into that grey box marked in black letters\u00a0\u00a0 worker My ears should go&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":68,"featured_media":71121,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-71027","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71027","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\/68"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=71027"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71027\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":71136,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71027\/revisions\/71136"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/71121"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=71027"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=71027"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=71027"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}