PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
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 Colm Toibin on Thom Gunn's Letters Allice Hiller and Sasha Dugdale in conversation David Herman on the life of Edward W. Said Jena Schmitt on Hope Mirrlees Brian Morton: Now the Trees
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
PN Review New Issue

This poem is taken from PN Review 239, Volume 44 Number 3, January - February 2018.

Two Poems Gail McConnell
Worm

Burrowing in your allotted patch you  
    move through the dark, muscles contracting one by one

in every part, lengthening and shortening
    the slick segmented tube of you, furrows in your wake.

Devising passages for water, air,
    you plot the gaps that keep the structure from collapse.

Dead things you know. Plants and creatures both.
    Your grooves shift matter, sifting as you go.

Eyeless, your appetite aerates.
    Eating the world, you open it.

You ingest to differentiate.
    Under the foot-stamped earth, you eat into a clot

of leaf mould, clay and mildew, and express what you can
    part with, as self-possessed as when you started.

Your secretions bind the soil,
    your shit enriches it. How things lie   
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image