Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
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 Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 120, Volume 24 Number 4, March - April 1998.

Four Poems David Constantine

Angels

I know a few girls who might well be angels.
One with a passion for railways. Her most likely.
Show her a branch line vanishing in bluebells
She feels it like a thread. From here, she says,

Give me a week I'll be in Mozdok.
She has the connections at her fingertips.
I have a coward soul. I lie awake
Begging the saints and all the old gods

Whichever had responsibility for wayfarers
Watch her. Intervene on her side. Cancel
Oncoming human error. I see her
Stuck somewhere bad with no train out till Monday

Asking a bed for the night from total strangers.
Must be she wakes an ancient obligation:
This we should do, this we should never do
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image