The meaning of this twisting path
meanders in air, disconnected
from the womb of a mother tongue.
Across the roll of hills
the speaker's breath so hushed with mist
silence pools all solitude in peat.
In the descent of farewell song
a school of limestone rock breaking
the heathered mesh. Whales gulp air,
threads of lichen gilding their heads,
a keening gleam of sea. All glide
towards a single silent end.
Whilst Adam sleeps in dreams of apple pie, she rolls
pastry for a tempting treat, baking golden brown
in tropical heat. With time to bathe, unzips her skirt
and spies her lover dozing summer schemes.
An axe lies lazy by his knee, a glass
of cider by the apple tree, and bees
are humming hexagon themes. With prey
to please, she wears his cotton shirt, descends
the stair and loosens her buttons. A snake
uncoils, all sleek and smooth, an hour to tease. She runs
her hand across his shedding skin, unravels cares
with lips and sighs, to gift an eternity
of sin in taste of apple pie.
Phil Wood works in a statistics office. He enjoys working with numbers and words. He was born in Wales.
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