Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
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 Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 134, Volume 26 Number 6, July - August 2000.

Samphire Robert Minhinnick

After the hurricane blew
Through my head I knew

Things had to change. That silence
Was no longer a defence.

So walking on the eastern shore
I asked myself what I was for,

And on that beach I built a fire
For the pickers of samphire,

Their plasticbags and fingers thick
With the samphire's citric

Oils, our thoughts turning to supper
Of seabass, or a silver-

Side of sewin laid
In tinfoil in the pit I'd made

On a griddle over ingots
Of driftwood, white-hot
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image