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This poem is taken from PN Review 132, Volume 26 Number 4, March - April 2000.

Songs for the Lugmen Robert Minhinnick

1
                         Weeks
        Of high pressure.
Even the earth is foreign.
But in these caves I discover
The sigh of the subterranean...

Then, on the Weather Channel
A swell off the Azores.
And we feel it.
                   We feel it.
The Gulf Stream in us roars.


2

Two lovers lie beneath the stack:
Wiggling like wheatears,
    Their arses white
Against the rock wall's black.

And the lugmen laugh
And come down the sandy trail,
The tyres of their bicycle
Hissing, the young one looking back.
...


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