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This poem is taken from PN Review 108, Volume 22 Number 4, March - April 1996.

Three Poems Gordon Wharton

Not to worry, I am safely back
from the reefs and rockpools of the North
with scarcely a hair out of place.

There, as I recall it,
I was thrashing about in a lagoon
of post-industrial fireweed

when I came up, not with a sponge or fish,
but an ingot of warm clinker
from which some local deity

had escaped in a great hurry.

Been There
While they burst in, beating snow from their furs,

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