<\/p>\n
How Was Your Day at the Office?<\/strong><\/p>\n Well, here\u2019s what happened: <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Rick Mitchell<\/strong> is a lifelong resident of New York State. Chiron Review Press published Speaking of Seed<\/em> and Night,<\/em> his first book of poetry, and Aldrich Press published Before Every Other Fall<\/em> in 2014.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" How Was Your Day at the Office? Well, here\u2019s what happened: I was picking the brittle brown oak leaves from between the garden rocks, clearing the last of winter, when I tilted a piece of granite and there it was, hanging from my pinkie finger by two needle fangs right through to almost the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10245","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10245","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10245"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10245\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10246,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10245\/revisions\/10246"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10245"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10245"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10245"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI was picking the brittle brown
\noak leaves from between the garden
\nrocks, clearing the last of winter, when
\nI tilted a piece of granite and there it was,
\nhanging from my pinkie finger by two needle fangs
\nright through to almost the bone and him
\njust swinging and squiggling to catch his dangled
\nself before I sunk my teeth into the meat
\nright behind his diamond -shaped head.<\/p>\n