<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Saxifrage<\/strong><\/p>\n Her laconic neighbour She wipes the window <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Phil Wood<\/strong> was born in Wales. He works in a statistics office, enjoys playing with numbers and words. His writing can be found in various publications, including:\u00a0<\/span>The Poetry Shed, Snakeskin, The Lampeter Review, London Grip<\/em>.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Saxifrage Her laconic neighbour uproots a mound of wildflowers. He buries bulbs within a copestone circle, gritting the soil so they will not rot in wet. He empties his glass after digging. This slow labour his way to word what can’t be said. She wipes the window clean of finger smudges, lettering, […]<\/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-18596","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18596","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=18596"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18596\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18718,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18596\/revisions\/18718"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18596"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18596"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18596"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nuproots a mound of wildflowers.
\nHe buries bulbs
\nwithin a copestone circle,
\ngritting the soil
\nso they will not rot
\nin wet. He empties
\nhis glass after digging.
\nThis slow labour his way
\nto word what can’t be said.<\/p>\n
\nclean of finger smudges,
\nlettering, a smiley face,
\nrunic codes, blemishes
\nof rain that stutter
\nintent. Beneath the sink
\nshe hoards the pot
\nof gathered seeds.
\nHe told her that saxifraga
\nmeans “stone-breaker”.<\/p>\n