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This poem is taken from PN Review 242, Volume 44 Number 6, July - August 2018.

Who Was St Chad? Jeffrey Wainwright
Did God speak to Nell the way
that Anselm heard Him clear?
From Sandford Hill it was hard
to imagine the court of Christ,
the air not rare enough
to let her through.

O Longton in your photographs,
marvelling at your famous ovens,
the bottles of smoke, the soot, the dirt,
the blackened bricks, the sun
lost to the long flame
and its buried fire.

Here Nell listened for the obscure
voice of God, assuming nothing.
She knew she must abide
this darkness, the salt-cloud
...


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