PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue John McAuliffe poems and conversation Charles Dobzynski translated by Marilyn Hacker Maya C. Popa in conversation with Caroline Bird Richard Gwyn With Lowry in Cuernavaca Jane Draycott Four Poems
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 162, Volume 31 Number 4, March - April 2005.

Section from 'Lives of the Saint' Robert Minhinnick

I saw them when I opened the caravan curtains:
hares boxing.
At dawn on the gravel
there they were, two jack hares standing up like firedogs,
or the scourgers who lassoed Christ's legs
and so tied themselves to him for ever,
the scourgers who are pistolwhipping the beardless Christ
there on the pulpit of St John's,
my two jack hares
beside this caravan.

Every evening I look west and say
redemption must be on its way.
It's in the red, it's in the reef, in the ray
as sunset swarms over Gower
and is gone.

The scientists were right
but so was RS.
                         Resurrection
is in the reactor.
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image