<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Woodsman<\/strong><\/p>\n The blade bites from above and below On the other side the second wedge and the wasp-waist cracks. The tree remains Watch him rest the axe against his boot and crashes to the forest floor as precisely <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Born in Australia, Diane Mulholland<\/strong> now lives in London where she can often be found beside the Thames. Her poems have appeared in journals including Under the Radar<\/em> and The Interpreter\u2019s House<\/em>, and she is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Manchester Metropolitan University.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Woodsman The blade bites from above and below until the wedge of air is deep in the trunk, like half of an hourglass waist, and the woodsman pauses, sets down the axe, and stretches his back. On the other side the second wedge speeds towards the first, the trunk shrinks until 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-16635","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16635","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=16635"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16635\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16636,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16635\/revisions\/16636"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16635"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16635"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16635"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nuntil the wedge of air is deep in the trunk,
\nlike half of an hourglass waist, and the woodsman
\npauses, sets down the axe, and stretches his back.<\/p>\n
\nspeeds towards the first, the trunk shrinks
\nuntil the causeway of wood is flooded<\/p>\n
\nbalanced on the memory of its tallness
\nfor the length of time between the thrust of a pin
\nand the shattering of a balloon.<\/p>\n
\nand slowly wipe both hands on canvas-covered thighs.
\nWatch as the tree finally sighs and slips<\/p>\n
\nalong the fall-line as if he\u2019d chalked it there.
\nTwo screeching white-as-white cockatoos
\ncircle into a patch of new blue sky.<\/p>\n