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This poem is taken from PN Review 128, Volume 25 Number 6, July - August 1999.

Three Poems Brian Cox


And so I retired,
apprenticed to silence,
only one deadline to meet,
no worries at 6 am.
I found ambition obsolete;
my cv permanently filed,
sleep easy as a child.

In sunlit woods near Albi
a fisherman in green waders,
older than me,
casts his line for trout.
I find the June camps empty;
banished from academe
I dine beside a dappled stream.

He doesn't speak or even smile;

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