{"id":3256,"date":"2021-03-25T10:36:12","date_gmt":"2021-03-25T14:36:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/?p=3256"},"modified":"2021-03-25T10:36:13","modified_gmt":"2021-03-25T14:36:13","slug":"a-poem-for-a-thursday-123","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2021\/03\/25\/a-poem-for-a-thursday-123\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #123"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/dzmitry-dudov-dead__angel_-aFyD5aWKu6k-unsplash-683x1024.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-3257\"\/><figcaption>Photo by <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/@dead__angel_?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText\">Dzmitry Dudov (Dead__Angel_)<\/a> on <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/s\/photos\/black-cat?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText\">Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Dorianne Laux is an American poet who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina. When speaking of the qualities she admires in poetry she said &#8220;Craft is important, a skill to be learned, but it&#8217;s not the beginning and end of the story. I want the muddled middle to be filled with the gristle of living.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">The cat calls for her dinner. \nOn the porch I bend and pour\nbrown soy stars into her bowl,\nstroke her dark fur.\nIt's not quite night.\nPinpricks of light in the eastern sky.\nAbove my neighbor's roof, a transparent\nmoon, a pink rag of cloud.\nInside my house are those who love me.\nMy daughter dusts biscuit dough.\nAnd there's a man who will lift my hair\nin his hands, brush it\nuntil it throws sparks.\nEverything is just as I've left it.\nDinner simmers on the stove.\nGlass bowls wait to be filled\nwith gold broth. Sprigs of parsley\non the cutting board.\nI want to smell this rich soup, the air\naround me going dark, as stars press \ntheir simple shapes into the sky.\nI want to stay on the back porch\nwhile the world tilts\ntoward sleep, until what I love\nmisses me, and calls me in. \n\nOn the Back Porch\nDorianne Laux<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Dorianne Laux is an American poet who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina. When speaking of the qualities she admires in poetry she said &#8220;Craft is important, a skill to be learned, but it&#8217;s not the beginning and end of the story. I want the muddled middle to be filled with the gristle of living.&#8221; The cat calls for her dinner. On the porch I bend and pour brown soy stars into her bowl, stroke her dark fur. It&#8217;s not quite night. Pinpricks of light in the eastern sky. Above my neighbor&#8217;s roof, a transparent moon, a pink rag of cloud. Inside my house are those who love me. My daughter dusts biscuit dough. And there&#8217;s a man who will lift my hair in his hands, brush it until it throws sparks. Everything is just as I&#8217;ve left it. Dinner simmers on the stove. Glass bowls wait to be filled with gold broth. Sprigs of parsley on the cutting board. I want to smell this rich soup, the air around me going dark, as stars press their simple shapes into the sky. I want to stay on the back porch while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me in. On the Back Porch Dorianne Laux<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3257,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3256","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3256","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3256"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3256\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3258,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3256\/revisions\/3258"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3257"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3256"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3256"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3256"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}