stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19886
    [post_author] => 18
    [post_date] => 2019-03-27 13:09:07
    [post_date_gmt] => 2019-03-27 13:09:07
    [post_content] => Find someone who looks at you the way a drone pilot would.
People who live by the railway know a house is just
an assembly of stones waiting for the right train
to pass so close it shakes the walls and brings the roof inside.
In your life you can be loved precisely seven times
and never know; red-headed students and knock-kneed waiters,
conference attendees with rich inner lives,
all casting their eyes like fly reels into unrewarding waters.
Love was my father who screamed himself awake,
my mother who walked him to the narrow, yellow kitchen,
pressed him in the seat of a favourite chair
and tipped his head back until slow and silent,
tender as a faun, a wire-legged spider came crawling from his ear.
    [post_title] => Near / Far Away
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => near-far-away
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2019-04-04 11:05:25
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2019-04-04 11:05:25
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=19886
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2018
            [wpcf-summary-description] => 'Near / Far Away' was commended in the 2018 National Poetry Competition. 

From the judges: "An arresting first line and the poem continues to surprise the reader, and I suspect the writer was also surprised by this poem. That devastating last image of the father contrasted with the certainties expressed earlier in the poem, and it was the puzzle of this image that haunted me through numerous re-readings." - Kim Moore [wpcf-rights-information] => [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, National Poetry Competition 2018 [wpcf_pr_belongs] => ) [poet_data] => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 19902 [forename] => [surname] => [title] => Nick Garrard [slug] => nick-garrard [content] => Nick Garrard works as a teacher in London, where he lives with his girlfriend and their cheese plant, Chas. He has written for 3AM, Literary Review and the Independent on Sunday. His poetry has appeared in Magma and as part of the podcast series, 'Bedtime Stories for the End of the World'. ) )
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19902
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Nick Garrard
    [slug] => nick-garrard
    [content] => Nick Garrard works as a teacher in London, where he lives with his girlfriend and their cheese plant, Chas. He has written for 3AM, Literary Review and the Independent on Sunday. His poetry has appeared in Magma and as part of the podcast series, 'Bedtime Stories for the End of the World'.
)

Near / Far Away

Nick Garrard

Find someone who looks at you the way a drone pilot would.
People who live by the railway know a house is just
an assembly of stones waiting for the right train
to pass so close it shakes the walls and brings the roof inside.
In your life you can be loved precisely seven times
and never know; red-headed students and knock-kneed waiters,
conference attendees with rich inner lives,
all casting their eyes like fly reels into unrewarding waters.
Love was my father who screamed himself awake,
my mother who walked him to the narrow, yellow kitchen,
pressed him in the seat of a favourite chair
and tipped his head back until slow and silent,
tender as a faun, a wire-legged spider came crawling from his ear.