stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 21079
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2020-09-28 11:01:31
    [post_date_gmt] => 2020-09-28 11:01:31
    [post_content] => And I never saw my mother again.

All my stars fell palms-first into the thorns
outside my small glassless window.
No door, no stairs. I just found myself,
there. My thimble. My long smoking rifle
and I, the smoke softly ceasing to exist.
It takes seventy years to wash my hair.
She did it in such a way that I can’t undo,
the tight knots of my hair, the bolts, the locks.
I wear it like a straitjacket. Gold
is the softest, most feeble metal. The horsehair
bristles of the brush whisper against my scalp
a million matriarchal ghosts. Child. Girl. Here, my vengeance.
I want to hurl myself out the window and live,
briefly. For the small children in the distant village
to point and say
                         look! Mama! a shooting star!
    [post_title] => Self-Portrait as Rapunzel, in which the Tower Represents Grief
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
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    [post_name] => self-portrait-as-rapunzel-in-which-the-tower-represents-grief
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2020-09-28 11:32:15
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2020-09-28 11:32:15
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=21079
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
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    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2020
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is the third-prize winner of August Challenge #2: Fairy Tale Poetry on Young Poets Network. This challenge was set and judged by Foyle Young Poet Meredith LeMaître in 2020.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => 3rd prize, August Challenge #2: Fairy Tale Poetry
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 18987
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Ellora Sutton
            [slug] => ellora-sutton
            [content] => Ellora Sutton lives in Hampshire, where she is studying towards an MA in Creative Writing with the Open University. She has been published in Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal, The Cardiff Review, Mookychick, and The Female Spectator, amongst others. She was commended in the 2019 Winchester Poetry Prize; won the 2019 Pre-Raphaelite Society poetry competition; and has been a winner of several Young Poets Network challenges. Her debut chapbook is forthcoming from Nightingale & Sparrow.

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 and the third Bloodaxe Archive challenge, The Re-Re-Re-Drafting Challenge. Ellora is also the second-prize winner in August challenge #4 on the poetics of interrogation, written and judged by Foyle Young Poet Kara Jackson in 2019. She is the third-prize winner of the Ode to (Small) Joy challenge and August Challenge #2: Fairy Tale Poetry.

Ellora is commended in the first, second and fourth Bloodaxe Archive challenges, The Poetics of the Archive, White Space and Take Note; the 2019 and 2020 poetry translation challenges with Modern Poetry in Translation; the Mary Wollstonecraft challenge, written and judged by Bee Rowlatt of the Mary on the Green campaign; the moon poetry challenge, judged by Nii Parkes; the Golden Shovel challenge, judged by Peter Kahn; the Bletchley Park challenge, judged by So Mayer; the W. S. Graham challenge judged by Rachael Boast as part of Graham’s centenary celebrations; and Ankita Saxena’s protest poetry challenge, remembering 100 years of the women’s vote in the UK.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 18987
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Ellora Sutton
    [slug] => ellora-sutton
    [content] => Ellora Sutton lives in Hampshire, where she is studying towards an MA in Creative Writing with the Open University. She has been published in Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal, The Cardiff Review, Mookychick, and The Female Spectator, amongst others. She was commended in the 2019 Winchester Poetry Prize; won the 2019 Pre-Raphaelite Society poetry competition; and has been a winner of several Young Poets Network challenges. Her debut chapbook is forthcoming from Nightingale & Sparrow.

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 and the third Bloodaxe Archive challenge, The Re-Re-Re-Drafting Challenge. Ellora is also the second-prize winner in August challenge #4 on the poetics of interrogation, written and judged by Foyle Young Poet Kara Jackson in 2019. She is the third-prize winner of the Ode to (Small) Joy challenge and August Challenge #2: Fairy Tale Poetry.

Ellora is commended in the first, second and fourth Bloodaxe Archive challenges, The Poetics of the Archive, White Space and Take Note; the 2019 and 2020 poetry translation challenges with Modern Poetry in Translation; the Mary Wollstonecraft challenge, written and judged by Bee Rowlatt of the Mary on the Green campaign; the moon poetry challenge, judged by Nii Parkes; the Golden Shovel challenge, judged by Peter Kahn; the Bletchley Park challenge, judged by So Mayer; the W. S. Graham challenge judged by Rachael Boast as part of Graham’s centenary celebrations; and Ankita Saxena’s protest poetry challenge, remembering 100 years of the women’s vote in the UK.
)

Self-Portrait as Rapunzel, in which the Tower Represents Grief

Ellora Sutton

And I never saw my mother again.

All my stars fell palms-first into the thorns
outside my small glassless window.
No door, no stairs. I just found myself,
there. My thimble. My long smoking rifle
and I, the smoke softly ceasing to exist.
It takes seventy years to wash my hair.
She did it in such a way that I can’t undo,
the tight knots of my hair, the bolts, the locks.
I wear it like a straitjacket. Gold
is the softest, most feeble metal. The horsehair
bristles of the brush whisper against my scalp
a million matriarchal ghosts. Child. Girl. Here, my vengeance.
I want to hurl myself out the window and live,
briefly. For the small children in the distant village
to point and say
                         look! Mama! a shooting star!