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This poem is taken from PN Review 189, Volume 36 Number 1, September - October 2009.

Diary of the Last Man Robert Minhinnick

1. Prophecy
 
        Perhaps
I am the last man.
Perhaps I deserve to be.
So in this driftwood church
I hum my hymn of sand.
        Yet any god
would be welcome here.
        Any god at all.


2. Snipe
 
Come out of the frozen cress.
Two of them, two lines of barbed wire
across the sky, two voices
with snapped-off vowels, electrical and mad.
Such sneerers, snipe, sulky that I could come so close,
so close to their ruined aristocracy, rank in its rags.
But if I called I know they would turn back.


3. Slugs
 
I awoke in the dark.
Perhaps I was delirious, but I had dreamed
...


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