stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 20157
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2019-07-11 16:27:19
    [post_date_gmt] => 2019-07-11 16:27:19
    [post_content] => “It appears to me impossible that I should cease to exist, or that this active, restless spirit, equally alive to joy & sorrow, should only be organised dust … sometimes, when the sea was calm, I was amused by disturbing young star fish which floated just below the surface.” – Mary Wollstonecraft

In the waves I see my body and his, the coast
the crags, all the cliff-clinging flowers that grow
through willpower alone, defying reason.
In the spume I see my shoulder blades, the place
where I rolled up against the door and wouldn’t move,
a comma, a breath, the power of my lungs and tongue.

I haven’t seen anything like it since Paris, where the streets
flooded with glass, blooded with freedom. I tasted it there.
The atomies in the air are tarred with sunlight, a shoal of fish
pulsing into the shape of a larger future. That is fraternity.

The women on the shore showed me how to do it,
how to bandage my babe to my body, to wear her
like a talisman. Her little sharp nails make moons of my skin
as we crest the waves or cleave the waves, as I pull herring
after pickled herring from the jar like a metaphor for Parisian silver.

I swear by the starfish at my fingertips: my shoulders are hers,
this fresh blue is hers, all this howling eternity – hers. My daughter.

The wind shatters my face and, alive, I do not look to see how beautiful she is.
    [post_title] => On the Skagerrak Sea, with child
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
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    [post_name] => on-the-skagerrak-sea-with-child
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    [post_modified] => 2019-07-11 16:27:19
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2019-07-11 16:27:19
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    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=20157
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    [post_type] => poems
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    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2019
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in the Mary Wollstonecraft challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN), written and judged by Bee Rowlatt of the Mary on the Green campaign.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, Mary Wollstonecraft challenge
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
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    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 18987
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Ellora Sutton
            [slug] => ellora-sutton
            [content] => Ellora is the first-prize winner of the Carol Ann Duffy challenge on Young Poets Network, judged by Mari Hughes-Edwards, and celebrating Duffy's legacy as Poet Laureate. She is also the first-prize winner of Bailey Blackburn's 2018 August challenge #2 on found poems. Ellora is commended in the commended: in the Mary Wollstonecraft challenge, written and judged by Bee Rowlatt of the Mary on the Green campaign; in the moon poetry challenge judged by Nii Parkes; in the Golden Shovel challenge, judged by Peter Kahn; in the Bletchley Park challenge, judged by So Mayer; in the W. S. Graham challenge judged by Rachael Boast as part of Graham’s centenary celebrations; and in Ankita Saxena’s protest poetry challenge, remembering 100 years of the women’s vote in the UK.

Her work has been published by The Cardiff Review, Blue Marble Review and Nightingale & Sparrow among others. She was commended in the Winchester Poetry Prize.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 18987
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Ellora Sutton
    [slug] => ellora-sutton
    [content] => Ellora is the first-prize winner of the Carol Ann Duffy challenge on Young Poets Network, judged by Mari Hughes-Edwards, and celebrating Duffy's legacy as Poet Laureate. She is also the first-prize winner of Bailey Blackburn's 2018 August challenge #2 on found poems. Ellora is commended in the commended: in the Mary Wollstonecraft challenge, written and judged by Bee Rowlatt of the Mary on the Green campaign; in the moon poetry challenge judged by Nii Parkes; in the Golden Shovel challenge, judged by Peter Kahn; in the Bletchley Park challenge, judged by So Mayer; in the W. S. Graham challenge judged by Rachael Boast as part of Graham’s centenary celebrations; and in Ankita Saxena’s protest poetry challenge, remembering 100 years of the women’s vote in the UK.

Her work has been published by The Cardiff Review, Blue Marble Review and Nightingale & Sparrow among others. She was commended in the Winchester Poetry Prize.
)

On the Skagerrak Sea, with child

Ellora Sutton

“It appears to me impossible that I should cease to exist, or that this active, restless spirit, equally alive to joy & sorrow, should only be organised dust … sometimes, when the sea was calm, I was amused by disturbing young star fish which floated just below the surface.” – Mary Wollstonecraft

In the waves I see my body and his, the coast
the crags, all the cliff-clinging flowers that grow
through willpower alone, defying reason.
In the spume I see my shoulder blades, the place
where I rolled up against the door and wouldn’t move,
a comma, a breath, the power of my lungs and tongue.

I haven’t seen anything like it since Paris, where the streets
flooded with glass, blooded with freedom. I tasted it there.
The atomies in the air are tarred with sunlight, a shoal of fish
pulsing into the shape of a larger future. That is fraternity.

The women on the shore showed me how to do it,
how to bandage my babe to my body, to wear her
like a talisman. Her little sharp nails make moons of my skin
as we crest the waves or cleave the waves, as I pull herring
after pickled herring from the jar like a metaphor for Parisian silver.

I swear by the starfish at my fingertips: my shoulders are hers,
this fresh blue is hers, all this howling eternity – hers. My daughter.

The wind shatters my face and, alive, I do not look to see how beautiful she is.