Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Hal Coase 'Ochre Pitch' Gregory Woods 'On Queerness' Kirsty Gunn 'On Risk! Carl Phillips' Galina Rymbu 'What I Haven't Written' translated by Sasha Dugdale Gabriel Josipovici 'No More Stories' Valerie Duff-Strautmann 'Anne Carson's Wrong Norma'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 173, Volume 33 Number 3, January - February 2007.

Four Poems Jeffrey Wainwright


by categories do we maister [master] the world

we always think that we are looking on looking in

that it is in us to see

that it is the long-nosed mouse underground
gobbling the artichoke roots
that the diamondback's a heat-seeker
that we can read the broken sand
revealed by dawn
the scutter-marks and fine-drilling
all for food and danger

we always think we are looking on looking in

sand scutter snake snout-mouse
if we speak them they will be -
and made ours by arrangement

the bones rattled cunningly in a cup
scutter across the baize till time runs out
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image