{"id":93,"date":"2018-11-16T18:37:44","date_gmt":"2018-11-16T18:37:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/?p=93"},"modified":"2018-11-16T18:37:44","modified_gmt":"2018-11-16T18:37:44","slug":"pictures","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/pictures\/","title":{"rendered":"PICTURES"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>PICTURES<\/strong><br \/>\nMorning sun, creeping<br \/>\nup behind charcoal hills,<br \/>\nbrushed clouds thunderstorm gray,<br \/>\nsunrise pink and yellow, painting<br \/>\nthe day&#8217;s first tapestry as I drove<br \/>\nto work at the hospital.<\/p>\n<p>The mother watches the waiting<br \/>\nroom clock crawl toward visiting<br \/>\nhours. The baby, hands twitching,<br \/>\nsleeps in the stroller.<\/p>\n<p>I help the father, his face unshaven<br \/>\nand hospital pale, shuffle<br \/>\nfrom the intensive care unit<br \/>\ntoward the drowsy child.<br \/>\nWith shaking hand, he brushes<br \/>\nthe silk-soft hair and whispers,<br \/>\n&#8220;How are you, Will? Haven&#8217;t seen you<br \/>\nin two weeks. You&#8217;ve grown&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>He touches the baby<br \/>\nas if he were taking<br \/>\na butterfly from the net.<\/p>\n<p>Asheville Poetry Review<br \/>\nOn the road to see Mrs. Dye,<\/p>\n<p>I pass bleached buildings<br \/>\nin different stages of collapse.<br \/>\nOvernight, like fallen chimney<br \/>\nbricks,<br \/>\nher vertebrae crack.<br \/>\nIn a chair, pushed to the side<br \/>\nof the nursing home hall,<br \/>\nher jaw hangs<br \/>\nlike a door<br \/>\non an eroded hinge.<br \/>\nSigns posted warn a structure<br \/>\nis unsafe, the windows <\/p>\n<p>dilated<br \/>\nas her stare from the railed bed.<br \/>\nLayers of her history are lost <\/p>\n<p>in the weathered paint. Her thoughts, remains<br \/>\nof a starling&#8217;s nest in a burned-out light,<br \/>\nblow across a ragged yard.<\/p>\n<p>Iris<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>PICTURES Morning sun, creeping up behind charcoal hills, brushed clouds thunderstorm gray, sunrise pink and yellow, painting the day&#8217;s first tapestry as I drove to work at the hospital. The mother watches the waiting room clock crawl toward visiting hours. The baby, hands twitching, sleeps in the stroller. I help the father, his face unshaven&hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/pictures\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">PICTURES<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-93","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems","category-published-poems"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/93","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=93"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/93\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":94,"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/93\/revisions\/94"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=93"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=93"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecatbirdsang.com\/www\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=93"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}