Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Joshua WeinerAn Exchange with Daniel Tiffany/Fall 2020
(PN Review 259)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Kirsty Gunn re-arranges the world John McAuliffe reads Seamus Heaney's letters and translations Chris Price's 'Songs of Allegiance' David Herman on Aharon Appelfeld Victoria Moul on Christopher Childers compendious Greek and Latin Lyric Book Philip Terry again answers the question, 'What is Poetry'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Reader Survey
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 137, Volume 27 Number 3, January - February 2001.

Screen on the Hill Ruth Padel

i

'We're in the cinema we love. My hair
    Is on your shoulder - that custard jacket -
And your heart's beating where
    It always does, against my cheek.
There's nothing wrong with us, or ever
    Could be. Here, behind the credits,
Is the heroine in long shot. Bleary angel time -
    Teary face and Pentel biro. Cut

To the pre-dawn line
    Of blistered honey below the blind.
It must be four in the morning; maybe five.
    In the aquavit night sky outside,
The mad full moon is Scarlet Lady red
    With equinox, ringed in a halo-dial
Of peacock green. Cats yowl in black back gardens,
    The duvet on the bed

Is whipped to screes. A mobile, a gone-off hand-
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image