stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 18933
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2018-05-18 12:43:48
    [post_date_gmt] => 2018-05-18 12:43:48
    [post_content] => it was july. no / june. there were no
birds / no children, my hands / you
wouldn’t know how to / boil bark &
live. the deadness of mud, how
the earth could spit you out / alone;
& so / britain. we drive to the shops, my body
that has never hungered, / hers shortened
by need over want & made harsh
by these sodium lights / city / petroleum
fuel / air. i can’t / see the trees or easypeel
oranges, veal, unfiltered, cold-pressed
oil my mother likes, to buy & fill
our plastic bags & better, more
for the foodbank; that sunday, she tells
me about shame & food & unlocks trussell trust
leaflets from the church office behind
the folding divider, & the pastor begins
/ -- won’t live // by bread alone / Οὐκ ἐπ’
// ἄρτῳ μόνῳ / & then it’s june. i touch
the trunk of every tree, precisely, like
the back of my grandmother’s hands.
i don’t know how / there are still
locks on bins at the supermarket, / poverty
premium / austerity / hunger / & far away
the bark keeps growing / & we drive
to the shops on sunday again / & again.
    [post_title] => My Grandmother Tells Me About A Famine
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
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    [post_name] => my-grandmother-tells-me-about-a-famine
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    [post_modified] => 2018-06-13 11:04:36
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2018-06-13 11:04:36
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    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=18933
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            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2018
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is the second-prize winner in the 16-18 age category of the End Hunger UK challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2018.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => 2nd prize-winner, 16-18 age category, End Hunger UK challenge 2018
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
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    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 17522
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Annie Fan
            [slug] => annie-fan
            [content] => Annie is second-prize winner in the 16-18 age category in the End Hunger UK challenge on Young Poets Network and highly commended in the Nearlyology challenge. They are also a runner-up in the BBC Proms Poetry Competition 2017 and the second prize winner in the Who is Giselle? poetry challenge on Young Poets Network.
        )

)
stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 17522
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Annie Fan
    [slug] => annie-fan
    [content] => Annie is second-prize winner in the 16-18 age category in the End Hunger UK challenge on Young Poets Network and highly commended in the Nearlyology challenge. They are also a runner-up in the BBC Proms Poetry Competition 2017 and the second prize winner in the Who is Giselle? poetry challenge on Young Poets Network.
)

My Grandmother Tells Me About A Famine

Annie Fan

it was july. no / june. there were no
birds / no children, my hands / you
wouldn’t know how to / boil bark &
live. the deadness of mud, how
the earth could spit you out / alone;
& so / britain. we drive to the shops, my body
that has never hungered, / hers shortened
by need over want & made harsh
by these sodium lights / city / petroleum
fuel / air. i can’t / see the trees or easypeel
oranges, veal, unfiltered, cold-pressed
oil my mother likes, to buy & fill
our plastic bags & better, more
for the foodbank; that sunday, she tells
me about shame & food & unlocks trussell trust
leaflets from the church office behind
the folding divider, & the pastor begins
/ — won’t live // by bread alone / Οὐκ ἐπ’
// ἄρτῳ μόνῳ / & then it’s june. i touch
the trunk of every tree, precisely, like
the back of my grandmother’s hands.
i don’t know how / there are still
locks on bins at the supermarket, / poverty
premium / austerity / hunger / & far away
the bark keeps growing / & we drive
to the shops on sunday again / & again.