stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 21259
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2020-11-03 17:16:59
    [post_date_gmt] => 2020-11-03 17:16:59
    [post_content] => there are worse things to be. i could be,
for instance, dying, or alive, but just
enough to be taking up space. i could wade
through a body that does not belong
to me. yes, i could ravage, rumble,
sour your milk, bite your children, poison
your evening news. i could enlist
my grandparents to waste like a disease
among the rubble, steam rising
foreign and filthy through the aftershocks.
or (gasp): i could cough.
yes, there are worse things to be
than a disruption: the way a country shudders
in the aftershocks of an enemy
so fragile our fathers call it china.
the way our grandparents’ mouths
already look too much like a wound.
the way people still waste their teeth
trying to chase us into hiding in the sands.
    [post_title] => someone calls me the c word and i respond
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => someone-calls-me-the-c-word-and-i-respond
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2020-11-03 17:16:59
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2020-11-03 17:16:59
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=21259
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2020
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in the Poetry and Political Language Challenge on Young Poets Network, in partnership with the Orwell Youth Prize in 2020.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, Poetry and Political Language Challenge
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 21261
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Emma Chan
            [slug] => emma-chan
            [content] => Emma is commended in the Poetry and Political Language Challenge on Young Poets Network, in partnership with the Orwell Youth Prize.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 21261
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Emma Chan
    [slug] => emma-chan
    [content] => Emma is commended in the Poetry and Political Language Challenge on Young Poets Network, in partnership with the Orwell Youth Prize.
)

someone calls me the c word and i respond

Emma Chan

there are worse things to be. i could be,
for instance, dying, or alive, but just
enough to be taking up space. i could wade
through a body that does not belong
to me. yes, i could ravage, rumble,
sour your milk, bite your children, poison
your evening news. i could enlist
my grandparents to waste like a disease
among the rubble, steam rising
foreign and filthy through the aftershocks.
or (gasp): i could cough.
yes, there are worse things to be
than a disruption: the way a country shudders
in the aftershocks of an enemy
so fragile our fathers call it china.
the way our grandparents’ mouths
already look too much like a wound.
the way people still waste their teeth
trying to chase us into hiding in the sands.