{"id":1219,"date":"2015-11-26T21:37:06","date_gmt":"2015-11-27T02:37:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/?p=1219"},"modified":"2015-11-26T22:16:42","modified_gmt":"2015-11-27T03:16:42","slug":"2-a-m-poetry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/archives\/1219","title":{"rendered":"2 a.m. Assorted Gothic Cathedrals"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

“The earth shook and shuddered like a sheet of metal stretched between two boulders and shot at by boys with slings. The trees bent back with the wind and rebounded, slapping their flailing arms on the cliff-sides as clouds heavy with moisture sped across the sky, saturating the air with morose glowers. ‘Let me go,’ everything seemed to mutter. ‘Let me go.'”<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Shapeless, green tartan dress down to below the knees with mannish Oxfords, or short, brown high-heeled boots. Thin, crocheted leg warmers in cream out of angora or some such fuzzy, light catching fiber. The dress has a black, peter-pan collar. A voluminous, heavy camel trenchcoat. Hair in double knots with strands escaping. Russian style furry hat in light gray. Light pink, cat eye glasses. Dark lipstick. Long, loose scarf.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Tartan blankets cross my knees. It smells of dust and ladybugs.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

All is quiet, burning softly.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span>Just moth wings churn noise.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

A creep of cold on the windowpane begins, tap, tap-tap,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Glistens in moonshine. Scrapes the velvet. Lamp low breathes red into the room.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Moths cluster and spin around the light making grim, fluttering shadows run around the walls. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

If only the ladybug hurling himself at the bedstead would succumb to natural rest:<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

a winter’s death and withered exoskeleton, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

crumbling wings and a rusting head.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The cold has taken the wild geese south, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and the drip drop of rain on the roof is muffled <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

by slumps of snow.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ladybug, ladybug on the wall, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

fly away to your home in the grasses where Death treads alone, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

gleaning with a mistletoe crown on his bony skull, red holly balls in his eyesockets, and <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

a <\/span><\/span><\/span>robe that ripples in the breeze.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Go greet him with your brightness<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

in delicate trails across the snow;<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

wander till you see him,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

then flutter up with spider wings,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and let him consume you.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Die, that Death might live.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“The earth shook and shuddered like a sheet of metal stretched between two boulders and shot at by boys with slings. The trees bent back with the wind and rebounded, slapping their flailing arms on the cliff-sides as clouds heavy with moisture sped across the sky, saturating the air with morose glowers. ‘Let me go,’…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[6],"tags":[331,220,334,330,332,327,3,333,336,337,329,335,328],"class_list":["post-1219","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-writings","tag-cold","tag-death","tag-experimental","tag-illinois","tag-ladybugs","tag-moths","tag-poetry","tag-room","tag-sloppy","tag-sloppy-poem","tag-snow","tag-unorganized","tag-winter"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4WcVY-jF","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1219"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1225,"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219\/revisions\/1225"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1219"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1219"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rasmusen.org\/special\/ameliajane\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1219"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}