stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 22346
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2021-11-11 09:30:38
    [post_date_gmt] => 2021-11-11 09:30:38
    [post_content] => 

We knock knees in breathless proximity / blasted carcass-empty / by the room’s heavy inventory / its dumb articulation. / We watch winter blossom close and cruel / against a patch of grime-specked window / pray for intercom takeaway / temporal reprieve / hoisin sauce sticky and brown / like the light crystallized / into apologetic sweetness / on your dripping fingers / everything overflowing. / Love, quietly / like blood rushing / bursting vessel walls / silently haemorrhaging. / Suitcases spill their intestinal damage / onto gummy vinyl / which pools like petroleum / lapping black / at a clock’s wooden foot / thudding in idiotic repetition / between stacks of newspapers that sway / like drunk men / with yellowing edges. / Shadows inundate space / twist obscene / against damp wallpaper / and mass mucus in their secret mouths / to spit ill-wishes into the well before the television / which blinks at us into the small hours / and drags time long and thin / through the room’s aching camera.

I have all I need but space. [post_title] => Living Room [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => closed [ping_status] => closed [post_password] => [post_name] => living-room [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2021-11-11 15:24:05 [post_modified_gmt] => 2021-11-11 15:24:05 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => https://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=22346 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => poems [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [meta_data] => stdClass Object ( [wpcf-published-in] => [wpcf-date-published] => 2021 [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in August Challenge #3: Inanimate Objects, Do You Have A Soul? on Young Poets Network in 2021. This challenge was set and judged by Foyle Young Poet Euan Sinclair. [wpcf-rights-information] => [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, August Challenge #3: Inanimate Objects, Do You Have A Soul? [wpcf_pr_belongs] => ) [poet_data] => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 22293 [forename] => [surname] => [title] => Mukisa Verrall [slug] => mukisa-verrall [content] =>

Mukisa Verrall was commended in the Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award 2020, and set and judged August Challenge #2: Write the Absurd, a writing challenge on Young Poets Network in summer 2021. They are commended in August Challenge #3: Inanimate Objects, Do You Have A Soul? on Young Poets Network in 2021, set and judged by Foyle Young Poet Euan Sinclair.

) )
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 22293
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Mukisa Verrall
    [slug] => mukisa-verrall
    [content] => 

Mukisa Verrall was commended in the Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award 2020, and set and judged August Challenge #2: Write the Absurd, a writing challenge on Young Poets Network in summer 2021. They are commended in August Challenge #3: Inanimate Objects, Do You Have A Soul? on Young Poets Network in 2021, set and judged by Foyle Young Poet Euan Sinclair.

)

Living Room

Mukisa Verrall

We knock knees in breathless proximity / blasted carcass-empty / by the room’s heavy inventory / its dumb articulation. / We watch winter blossom close and cruel / against a patch of grime-specked window / pray for intercom takeaway / temporal reprieve / hoisin sauce sticky and brown / like the light crystallized / into apologetic sweetness / on your dripping fingers / everything overflowing. / Love, quietly / like blood rushing / bursting vessel walls / silently haemorrhaging. / Suitcases spill their intestinal damage / onto gummy vinyl / which pools like petroleum / lapping black / at a clock’s wooden foot / thudding in idiotic repetition / between stacks of newspapers that sway / like drunk men / with yellowing edges. / Shadows inundate space / twist obscene / against damp wallpaper / and mass mucus in their secret mouths / to spit ill-wishes into the well before the television / which blinks at us into the small hours / and drags time long and thin / through the room’s aching camera.

I have all I need but space.