This poem is taken from PN Review 114, Volume 23 Number 4, March - April 1997.
Two Poems
Arrest of the Meter-Reader
The meter-reader was a man of grey: that
Was his colour from hair to official trouser. When
He spoke, his voice fell hoarse like grey leaves.
It was not done, but he had done it before.
His grey notebook was a conjurer's wand,
The black meter box was his oyster;
Or rabbit, that he pulled out at will
To delight those who had paid the ticket.
He did things that had not been done before.
The magic of meters had become his life.
Those numbers beyond change, the oscillating disc: he
Made them human with a green smile.
When they caught him at his tricks, the magic
Had run dry. He waved his expressive hands,
...
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 286 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 286 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?