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This poem is taken from PN Review 93, Volume 20 Number 1, September - October 1993.

Three Poems Gerard Woodward

The Explorer's Son
The weathermen said, 'Be brave.'
He had no choice, luscious

Though the North Pole was,
All that unveined marble

Like the ruins of Michaelangelo's
Studio. If he wanted

The ice-berg he should
Have had it, hollowed it,

Floated south on his knees
And into the record books,

Until his cold church
Thawed off Nova Scotia.

It didn't happen like that.
First, he lost confidence

In his teeth. They hurt

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