{"id":11456,"date":"2020-07-20T11:41:57","date_gmt":"2020-07-20T10:41:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456"},"modified":"2020-07-29T12:32:53","modified_gmt":"2020-07-29T11:32:53","slug":"2-poems-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456","title":{"rendered":"2 Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

Omnivore<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/h4>\n

It was prior to the silent parts of your body becoming noticeable
\nyou were regenerating
\nheat and skin
\nas one bird lifted on the Lower Zab river, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0and then another.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

You were standing in the kitchen on your own, vacant
\nboiling water into eternity outstretched in the garden; you were vegetarian and
\nentire in the bath after dinner.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

We are prone to collapse and magic I was the first to start showing the signs.
\nForever mutilated and sleeping,
\ndying as a child does spinning light and organs like ribbons leaving the TV screen. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

You said <\/span>let them push the needle in –
\n<\/i><\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 what an armada of cancer\u2019s inside me! Building one more hard yellow mountain.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0I think you made my skin too tight, mum.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>That\u2019s why I am still here, I am sure I am the living one.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I was deep in your belly,
\na sack of organs inside one of yours.
\nI could be an ex-gymnast, one metal leg, a girl on a stretcher. You could consider me a civilian<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

when they find me panting and rolling
\naround on my back,
\ngladly exposing my stomach in submission,
\nthank you for my hands to feel, my one good leg to walk.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Towards the Night-Chef<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/h4>\n

A salmon fish returns to the exact place it was born to give birth,
\nand the red beady colour of it\u2019s eggs occurred to me as I died.
\nI thought of your penis too. How remarkably well formed it is,
\nlike the coloured eggs, I thought as I released my death like a moon.
\nI didn\u2019t mind all that gel-blood and air running from the body, <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

joining that drum and the soil and the skinlessness on their way with me.
\nI called out to Google. But it was not Google, it was a Night-Chef.
\nHe is the votive for the un-died. Always frowning always shifting a little.
\nI said hello and I took out one of your mother\u2019s rugs from inside me,
\nalong with the sound of your big breaths between throat bones at night. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

But the Night-Chef said I should give it a rest:
\n\u201cLet it wane!\u201d he said, but I couldn\u2019t. So he showed me how to reach for it;
\ntowards and through the ceiling and bed and lowering through gradients of air
\nputting my skin on and noisy veins, back inside flesh like deaths blood-wild surface,
\nand then again there was the fight was you and the everyone,
\nand all that weight of the body, left.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Omnivore It was prior to the silent parts of your body becoming noticeable you were regenerating heat and skin as one bird lifted on the Lower Zab river, \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":345,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[394,395],"tags":[398],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n2 Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"2 Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Omnivore It was prior to the silent parts of your body becoming noticeable you were regenerating heat and skin as one bird lifted on the Lower Zab river, \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2020-07-20T10:41:57+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2020-07-29T11:32:53+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Eve Esfandiari-Denney\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Eve Esfandiari-Denney\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"2 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456\",\"name\":\"2 Poems - The Manchester Review\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2020-07-20T10:41:57+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2020-07-29T11:32:53+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/9ceeaafff6a518d1c7a5ebcfdd2a3e0d\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11456\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\",\"name\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"description\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/9ceeaafff6a518d1c7a5ebcfdd2a3e0d\",\"name\":\"Eve Esfandiari-Denney\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"caption\":\"Eve Esfandiari-Denney\"},\"description\":\"Eve Esfandiari-Denney is a British born Iranian poet living in London. She recently completed a BA in English and Creative Writing at Goldsmiths and is soon to begin an MA in Creative Writing at Royal Holloway. 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