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)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Christopher MiddletonNotes on a Viking Prow
(PN Review 10)
Next Issue Stav Poleg's Banquet Stanley Moss In a concluding conversation, with Neilson MacKay John Koethe Poems Gwyneth Lewis shares excerpts from 'Nightshade Mother: a disentangling' John Redmond revisits 'Henneker's Ditch'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Reader Survey
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 209, Volume 39 Number 3, January - February 2013.

Daughter Sinéad Morrissey
after Robert Pinsky

I

She wakes at 7am -
her internal clock
unstintingly accurate -
and can sleep twelve hours
at a stretch without
losing hold of her last thought.
The grievance she fell
asleep with: you didn't
get me rice milk
or
you didn't sing me
song 'bout Tommy Thumb -

her dawn declaration.
Though she'll also ask
is it morning?
just to check
she hasn't missed
the best and purest
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image