The night is cold, snow
\ndusted sparsely along the berm.
\nIt is the kind of cold which makes
\ncheeks too numb to feel tears
\nbut not cold enough to freeze
\nthem as they drip\u2026 drip\u2026
\nonto a furry coat collar. <\/p>\n
The road is empty, only
\na single car parked to the side
\nmostly sheltered by thick trees.
\nThe nearest town is miles away.
\nYou would have to drive for hours
\nto reach this quiet, cold land. <\/p>\n
There is a person standing
\nin the middle of the quiet road.
\nThey listen to the crickets, rustling
\nof a living forest, head tilted up
\nto bare neck and face to the stars.
\nThey are holding a key. <\/p>\n
It is not that kind of key.
\nThe kind of door that exists only
\non the median line of unused
\ncountry backroads cannot be
\nopened with that kind of key.
\nIt is a glowing branch, reflecting
\noff the scattered snow. <\/p>\n
The figure raises their wand,
\npoints it as far above as they can reach,
\nand waits a moment.
\nListening, again, for something
\nthat might make them want
\nto stop. To stay.
\nTheir listening is unanswered. <\/p>\n
It is nearly violent, the swing
\nwhich paints a wide, luminous circle
\nbefore the body, just greater than their
\nreach, right above the median line.
\nThe wand goes round a second time,
\ntwice to bind the door on both sides. <\/p>\n
If the person looks back\u2026
\nIf they wish so hard to see a pursuer\u2026
\nIf their face is numb and wet\u2026
\nthere is no one there to see it
\nbefore they climb through the door
\nand lock it dark behind them. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The night is cold, snow dusted sparsely along the berm. It is the kind of cold which makes cheeks too numb to feel tears but not cold enough to freeze them as they drip\u2026 drip\u2026 onto a furry coat collar. The road is empty, only…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1071,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-98972","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/98972","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\/1071"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=98972"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/98972\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":98979,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/98972\/revisions\/98979"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=98972"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=98972"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=98972"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}