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)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Next Issue Vahni Capildeo The Boisterous Weeping of Margery Kempe Paul Muldoon The Fly Sinead Morrissey Put Off That Mask Jane Yeh Three Poems Sarah Rothenberg Poetry and Music: Exile and Return
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review Blog
Monthly Carcanet Books

This poem is taken from PN Review 10, Volume 6 Number 2, November - December 1979.

Poem Andrew Waterman

Sunlight striking from an angle upon wet slates
seizes from daily rails the minds behind
the faces behind newspapers, floating them
high above blackened girders, stained brick arches,
factories frail as cartons, sweeps of roofline like
the patterns left in sand when the tide ebbs,
to that if-only space where all might turn. . .
Until, the terminus's dark lid sliding
over, trains draw in; lives reassume their frames.

"That's Mr Sims's office. He's in charge.
But off this week having all his teeth out.
So meanwhile we've got Eric. He's all right.
When he's all right. Here's what we do in here,
we match these delivery-notes with invoices,
checking the quantities, we mustn't pay
for more than what we get. So query all
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image