This poem is taken from PN Review 284, Volume 51 Number 6, July - August 2025.
Two Poems
Three
The first came in winter
at the year’s beginning.
A boy. Stillborn.
Not shown, not touched –
the mother must not attach
herself to the lifeless child.
The father was allowed.
A perfect baby, he said.
Sorrow never mended.
They returned to the house.
Patches of snow,
an empty room.
Then it was spring.
She picked wildflowers
from March until
...
The first came in winter
at the year’s beginning.
A boy. Stillborn.
Not shown, not touched –
the mother must not attach
herself to the lifeless child.
The father was allowed.
A perfect baby, he said.
Sorrow never mended.
They returned to the house.
Patches of snow,
an empty room.
Then it was spring.
She picked wildflowers
from March until
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue':
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 290 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews,
why not subscribe to the website today?