Aung San Suu Kyi
The guards, pristine in uniform, perspire
with orders not to hear. All know
her voice seduces the clouds to rain.
‘It is fear that corrupts,’ she smiles
through her eyes and so I hear the blue
blush of waves breaking along the wall,
the guards running, laughing…waving
goodbye to the sea.
Phil Wood works in a statistics office. Enjoys working with numbers and words. Previously published work can be found in various online publications: The Centrifugal Eye, Message in a Bottle, Streetcake Magazine, London Grip, The Open Mouse, Sein und Werden, Ink Sweat and Tears, The Recusant.
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I find this utterly charming, meaning it restores to my addled brain its capacity for delight. Wood ‘s firm handling of a range of issues– tone, line ending ( esp she smiles / through ) mix of diction, prosy clause building ( and so I) in the middle of intensely realized myth moment (her voice reduces) — all that expert suave dancing is a joy to behold. A well-made poem that exceeds any particular excuse for its circulation. I hope it circulates widely!