{"id":22589,"date":"2012-06-28T08:00:36","date_gmt":"2012-06-28T08:00:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=22589"},"modified":"2020-07-11T08:24:43","modified_gmt":"2020-07-11T08:24:43","slug":"anthony-wilson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/anthony-wilson\/","title":{"rendered":"Anthony Wilson"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Helping My Son With His GCSE Poetry Homework<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Built like a flanker, swearing like a football-dad<br \/>\nit\u2019s four Weetabix to a bowl,<br \/>\nFifa scores with strangers<br \/>\nand show-me-the-money demands<br \/>\nwhile I search for his hoodie.<br \/>\nAny excuse for some joshing, he\u2019s there,<br \/>\npretending the fridge is a lineout,<br \/>\nsending me crashing with a nudge.<br \/>\nBut the six-year-old in him still<br \/>\ngrabs at sweeties, Friday night treats.<br \/>\nHis last year at primary I shuffled<br \/>\nto keep up with him before chemo,<br \/>\nhis questions about death<br \/>\npricking my eyes, about the time<br \/>\nwe stopped kissing goodbye at the gates.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Anthony Wilson<\/strong> is a poet, writing tutor and lecturer. Riddance is forthcoming from Worple Press in September 2012. Love for Now, a prose memoir, is due from Impress books in the same month. He can be found online at <a href=\"http:\/\/www.anthonywilsonpoetry.com\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">www.anthonywilsonpoetry.com <\/a>and twitter: @awilsonpoet<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Helping My Son With His GCSE Poetry Homework Built like a flanker, swearing like a football-dad it\u2019s four Weetabix to a bowl, Fifa scores with strangers and show-me-the-money demands while I search for his hoodie. Any excuse for some joshing, he\u2019s there, pretending the fridge is a lineout, sending me crashing with [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"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-22589","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22589","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\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22589"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22589\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22593,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22589\/revisions\/22593"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22589"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22589"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22589"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}