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)
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)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Colm Toibin on Thom Gunn's Letters Allice Hiller and Sasha Dugdale in conversation David Herman on the life of Edward W. Said Jena Schmitt on Hope Mirrlees Brian Morton: Now the Trees
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
PN Review New Issue

This poem is taken from PN Review 130, Volume 26 Number 2, November - December 1999.

Three Poems Leah Fritz

Piazza San Marco

It was spring. Too early spring, before
the Easter innocents and local rogues
profaned the set, the hungry birds performed
their cooing begging ritual in droves.
Early morning, too. Cafés still closed.
Fishmongers and garbage scows along
the Grand Canal. Two lonely pigeons strolled
across the great expanse till church bells stung
them into sudden flight. Surprising cold,
the light which wavered with the water's lung,
foreshadowing a drowning end to all
this 'history', in time called by the young.

So whitely, quietly snow fell on stone,
laced the terra cotta and was gone.


Death in Florence
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image