Unbinding by Phil Wood

We took to not talking in the easy hours
of walking. Worry days, study days, days
like wasps that never pause, that made life sour
with fret and flit... out of those woods we came

to fallow fields loitered with restless rooks,
then through a brambled kissing gate and found
a bridge, and from the rushing river leapt
a trout with appetite, its nature bound

in blood to hide and seek. We wandered back
along a pockmarked lane, tufted with grass,
hedge-tight. An unmapped night, the sky crow-black,
no moon disclosed. Not talking, just walking.

Phil Wood was born in Wales. He studied English Literature at Aberystwyth University. He has worked in statistics, education, shipping, and a biscuit factory. He enjoys watercolour painting, bird watching, and chess. His writing can be found in various places, including recently : London Grip, Noon Journal of the Short Poem, Borderless and a featured collaboration with photographer John Winder at Abergavenny Small Press.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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