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This poem is taken from PN Review 247, Volume 45 Number 5, May - June 2019.

in memoriam Joseph Brodsky
Patrick Miles
‘But how do I choose? How can I choose
from so many dresses? And I think:
perhaps I don’t need a dress after all!’

She touched her henna, straightened, drew her legs
beneath her, paused, and folded down her hem.
The rush chair soughed. I saw an English gent
who broached some subject with a soft ‘ahem’.

‘Russian trains are so beautiful don’t you think?
So big and spacious, made of wood and brass –
not like the claustrophobics you have here!
We took the train to Leningrad at night,
we had a jazz band, and all our wedding night
we danced the boogie-woogie!’

(Always with a squeeze of tears or laughter.)

‘David will be home at eight.
Do you know how exciting, how spontaneous it is

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