Phil Wood





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, a smiley face,
runic codes, blemishes
of rain that stutter
intent. Beneath the sink
she hoards the pot
of gathered seeds.
He told her that saxifraga
means “stone-breaker”.



Phil Wood 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: The Poetry Shed, Snakeskin, The Lampeter Review, London Grip.

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