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 Jen Schmitt on Ekphrasis Rachel Hadas on Text and Pandemic Kirsty Gunn Essaying two Jee Leong Koh Palinodes in the Voice of my Dead Father Maureen Mclane Correspondent Breeze
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 163, Volume 31 Number 5, May - June 2005.

Two Poems Edward Ragg

Narco Poem

Because the air was night he lay on his bed,
And as his wife dozed in the duvet converted
Her heavier breathing into stanzas of sleep.

And as he lay awake sleeping, another poet
Rose from his side, not vividly like a movie,
Nor grey like slumbering ghosts. He sat on the bed,

Looked once into the whites of the eyes, peered
Into the black pupils, then walked out of the room,
Through the corridor and down into the study.

He sat at the poet's desk and at every bench
The poet had sat, just as he would sleep in
Every bed the poet slept, and wrote silver lines.

He wrote a poem about an insomniac whose
Sleep, as his wife lay breathing, was a poetry
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image