{"id":13190,"date":"2016-12-15T00:02:14","date_gmt":"2016-12-15T06:02:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/?p=13190"},"modified":"2016-12-09T19:14:02","modified_gmt":"2016-12-10T01:14:02","slug":"at-skull-creek-in-fayetteville-arkansas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/13190","title":{"rendered":"At Skull Creek in Fayetteville, Arkansas"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"font-size: 20px\">Moments after the sky declares the rain absent,<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\"><span style=\"color: #ffffff\">__<\/span>it begins falling roughly through the leaves. I miss you,<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\">and worse, I want to say it the way another poet would.<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\"><span style=\"color: #ffffff\">__<\/span>The creek is green-gold, the water moving<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\">around stones and slabs of concrete. I walk loudly<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\"><span style=\"color: #ffffff\">__<\/span>through it, feel it wrap around my ankles. Last night,<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\">at a motel in Sallisaw, I watched a row of pale blue doors<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\"><span style=\"color: #ffffff\">__<\/span>lean into sunset, like words in an aching sentence.<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\">My shame is that I didn&#8217;t believe you, not fully. Beneath<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\"><span style=\"color: #ffffff\">__<\/span>the rippling surface, there&#8217;s stillness, clear and cold,<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px\">where tiny glinting fish form patterns only to dissolve them.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<h6><a href=\"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/13165\">Chloe Honum<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Moments after the sky declares the rain absent, __it begins falling roughly through the leaves. I miss you, and worse, I want to say it the way another poet would. __The creek is green-gold, the water moving around stones and slabs of concrete. I walk loudly __through it, feel it wrap around my ankles. Last [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":647,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[50],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-3qK","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13190"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/647"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13190"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13190\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13339,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13190\/revisions\/13339"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13190"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13190"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13190"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}