{"id":3949,"date":"2019-05-15T09:00:03","date_gmt":"2019-05-15T09:00:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wp.lancs.ac.uk\/translatingpain\/?p=3949"},"modified":"2019-05-15T09:00:03","modified_gmt":"2019-05-15T09:00:03","slug":"stroke-by-lizzie-heath","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.lancs.ac.uk\/a-bel-abroad\/stroke-by-lizzie-heath\/","title":{"rendered":"‘Stroke’ by Lizzie Heath"},"content":{"rendered":"

There is a snuffing out<\/span>
\nwhen the synapses stop firing.<\/span>
\nThe ex-wives fade to black.<\/span>
\nHis hawks blink.<\/span>
\nExtinguished.<\/span>
\nThe Co-op, Jesus, trains and snow glimmer.<\/span>
\nCut.<\/span>
\nPlanets spin off the axons.<\/span>
\nOur kisses are ashes<\/span>
\nblown to the wind.<\/span>
\nHe lies alone, like a great house<\/span>
\nwith all it’s furniture moved out;<\/span>
\nwindows smeared with grease,<\/span>
\nelectrics, plumbing in such disarray,<\/span>
\nbuilders would suck their teeth,<\/span>
\nshrug, turn away.<\/span>
\nFlick a switch, see the neurons crackle. <\/span>
\nSmell the burning.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n