PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
News and Notes
Digital Access to PN Review
Access the latest issues, plus back issues of PN Review with Exact Editions For PN Review subscribers: to access the PN Review digital archive via the Exact Editions app Exactly or the Exact Editions website, you will first need to know your PN Review ID number. read more
PN Review Prize winners announced
Carcanet Press and PN Review are delighted to announce the winners of the first ever PN Review Prize. read more
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Drew MilneTom Raworth’s Writing
‘present past improved’: Tom Raworth’s Writing

(PN Review 236)
Alejandro Fernandez-OsorioPomace (trans. James Womack)
(PN Review 236)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Kei MillerIn the Shadow of Derek Walcott

(PN Review 235)
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Gratis Ad 1
Gratis Ad 2
Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This poem is taken from PN Review 93, Volume 20 Number 1, September - October 1993.

Six Poems Adam Schwartzman

Rivonia Road 2

Crouching on the roof of your neighbour's garage that slopes
over the garden and your mother's rosery, we watch a squall
drub and clobber the Magalliesberg foothills from far away.

In the suburbs though, it is a dumb-show. We count
the long seconds between flash and wallop and try
to remember the formula to link sight and sound by distance.

What we see is the storm, small and entire in the wide sky and neatly
defined between two tilted parallels. As they open up nearer,
we will smell them cleanly.We will see through rain-shade.

Things will be darker, not dimmer.When it comes to us,
we will be inside, safely, until, afterwards, we clear the garden table
and find the wine-glasses brimmed and level.

Knowing where everything goes

It is when a low sky drains down the valley towards
December; under rough thatch that drips what it doesn't let in

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image