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)
M. Wynn ThomasThe Other Side of the Hedge
(PN Review 239)
Next Issue Beverley Bie Brahic, after Leopardi's 'Broom' Michael Freeman Benefytes and Consolacyons Miles Burrows At Madame Zaza’s and other poems Victoria Kenefick Hunger Strike Hilary Davies Haunted by Christ
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 189, Volume 36 Number 1, September - October 2009.

Two Poems David Kinloch

A Coin
for Edwin Morgan

John Acheson struck me. Master of the Mint,
he was engraver to the Medicis and the Scottish Queen
whose portrait he dug hard for in my golden flesh.
His hands twisted out the corkscrew curls,
scraped the swan-like neck for heads,
lion rampants for my tails. I’ve aged with her,
my high colour burnished, though still
I offer her an image of her profile on the brink
of greatness: Great Queen of France and Scots
and England, her crown both regal and the tiara
of her Roman faith. Tip me to certain angles
in the sunlight and you’ll catch reflections
of Chambord afternoons and at night a glimmer
of the candles ranked and raked on ballroom floors.
I announced a Golden Age and she has used me well

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image