A Gull Lost in Rain
membrane slashed shell cracks
hunger untethered again
nest clinging in cleft of white cliff
a fledgling pulsing ghosted
with flight blood threading to wing
in feathered strain slap and smack
of waves claw of wind glides
beyond spray weathered herring sky
above screech and beak circling
weary beckoning sullen rock
spiralling closer that final nest
ever closer that kiss of rest
The Fisherman's Wife
Soaping her hand gave pause for thought.
Agreed, it was obvious. Gilt-heads
grinning, demise brimming bright-eyed
belief crisping beneath the grill.
They almost anesthetized her.
Almost. But seeping under the scent
of saffron rice, beyond these fish
dreaming of Mediterranean blue
her hand gave pause and so she found
a bruising bit on her banded finger.
The Persian cat flicked its tail,
the bowl of bream began to swim.
Dolphins
across the blue blush of waves
a school of dolphins mouth
polystyrene cups
a sense of
us
Phil Wood works in a statistics office. Enjoys working with numbers and words. Recently published poems can be found in London Grip, The Stare's Nest, The Lampeter Literary Review, and The Open Mouse.
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