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    [ID] => 17995
    [post_author] => 16
    [post_date] => 2017-05-25 11:40:57
    [post_date_gmt] => 2017-05-25 11:40:57
    [post_content] => I keep sunlight in a match box.
I slide it open – the clouds blush.

Bulbs tucked deep from cold sky
hum with possibility.

It’s warmth like bath water,
like pressing bodies.

I squint, chandeliers of light
on concrete. Tilt my chin.

I’m like butter and its richness
lingering past the meal.
    [post_title] => Richness
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => richness
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2017-05-25 12:57:24
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-05-25 12:57:24
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=17995
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2017
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is highly commended in the I Am the Universe poetry challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2017.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Highly commended, I Am the Universe Challenge 2017
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 17983
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Jacob Wright
            [slug] => jacob-wright
            [content] => Jacob is highly commended in the I Am the Universe challenge on Young Poets Network.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 17983
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Jacob Wright
    [slug] => jacob-wright
    [content] => Jacob is highly commended in the I Am the Universe challenge on Young Poets Network.
)

Richness

Jacob Wright

I keep sunlight in a match box.
I slide it open – the clouds blush.

Bulbs tucked deep from cold sky
hum with possibility.

It’s warmth like bath water,
like pressing bodies.

I squint, chandeliers of light
on concrete. Tilt my chin.

I’m like butter and its richness
lingering past the meal.