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

(PN Review 241)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Sasha Dugdale, Intimacy and other poems Eugene Ostashevsky, The Feeling Sonnets Nyla Matuk, The Resistance Alex Wylie, Democratic Rags Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Two poems from the archive
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 35, Volume 10 Number 3, January - February 1984.

Poems P.J. Kavanagh

LATE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Elizabeth Pritchard, Elizabeth Pritchard, Liz,
We never know who we shall miss.
Some dead leave a gap that heals over, others leave presences.
Last summer I teased when you filled every corner
With froths of wild grasses
And when you froze to a statue under our tentative swallows
I teased you, but later when scything the grasses
It was your everywhere reverent vases
I saw, not the rankness I cut.
And in bird-empty wind when I tread on the swallows' messes
Which lie on the floor of the shed still, even in winter,
It is never the birds I remember
But you, Elizabeth. In December I nod to
The stones you put to guard willow-herb, like it or not,
As though the degree of your care for the small and abandoned
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image