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This poem is taken from PN Review 254, Volume 46 Number 6, July - August 2020.

‘Death’ and other poems Nell Prince
Plectrum My Ribs

Do. Pilfer a penny.
Put it between these ribs.
Make them ring. Force
out the hollow they hold.

Go on. The penny’s your
pick. So pluck me a song.  
Stab at the empty. Tune
and strum my obsolete ribs.

Sing along. Strike up a
lick. Shake me. Thrum
where a heart once


Your signature is poppy,
red sprawl contrived to make
a grave less dull, a field

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