After the mistake
Lying under the duvet
as cosy as a dormouse,
toes snug within
the solitude house.
Silence settles slowly
along the wishing line:
forgiveness needs to be
kind, is nestled blind.
The carpenter and friend
The oldish chap naps,
a gentle snore, no more
than that; his rocking chair
the other chap made.
When the oldish chap wakes,
they play a game of chess;
idle some chat, agree
a draw. The other chap naps.
A Bricklayer Retires
This wall has legs. The coffin tread
of bricks on grass is a stubborn stain.
But walls do stumble, grass does grow.
Your smile will trouble any wall.
I hear your dancing steps across
the landing floor. I grip my wall.
The humble grass is greening doors.
Your smile will crumble any wall.
Phil Wood was born in Wales. He has worked in statistics, education, shipping, and a biscuit factory. His writing can be found in various publications, including: Fevers of the Mind, London Grip, Snakeskin Poetry, Clementine Unbound, Miller’s Pond, Allegro.
You can find more of Phil’s work here on Ink Pantry.