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 201, Volume 38 Number 1, September - October 2011.

Two Poems Rodney Pybus
Jammy

Five little imitations, or wooden
Intimations of killing, much redder than raspberry jam
Or the bright arrow-marks advancing across

The map of France in my father's atlas;
Pointy-headed in their brass cylinder jackets
Squeezed into a charger clip - five of them I found

Near the base of a silver birch, I think it was, each one
Longer than my little-fingers - the colour of rich
Cochineal, but it was fresh blood I thought of then

As if they'd been used already, like arrow-tips just yanked
From warm bodies, or, worse, when I couldn't sleep,
Five little stumps brought to points with a pencil-sharpener.

('In the end you will tell us everything!')
Biggest thrill in seven years, those five little beauties,
Practice bullets for loading a Lee-Enfield .303.
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image