This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.
Shape of Air
It has lighted on you, this shape of air.
I don't want you to know that it is there:
Not yours or mine, as by the gate you stand
That divides the mountain from the worked land
And the first light of day, neither shade nor shine,
Shows through your open shirt your body's line.
The stones, the coppice, the inconsequent trees,
The cold fountain by the path, where blackberries
...
I don't want you to know that it is there:
Not yours or mine, as by the gate you stand
That divides the mountain from the worked land
And the first light of day, neither shade nor shine,
Shows through your open shirt your body's line.
The stones, the coppice, the inconsequent trees,
The cold fountain by the path, where blackberries
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
